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To the world a symbol: to Japan a fact 






> im^r^^w%<.m i 


Copyright, 1931, by 
The Century Co. 


Printed in U. R. A, 







This book is an attempt to bring within focus the most 
outstanding factors in the Pacific. With the exception 
of Chapter II, which deals with the origin of the Poly- 
nesian people, there is hardly an incident in the whole 
book that has not come within the scope of my own per- 
sonal experience. Hence this is essentially a travel nar- 
rative. I have confined myself to the task of interpreting 
the problems of the Pacific in the light of the episodes of 
everyday life. Wherever possible, I have tried to let 
the incident speak for itself, and to include in the picture 
the average ideals of the various races, together with 
my own impressions of them and my own reflections. 
The field is a tremendous one. It encompasses the most 
important regions that lie along the great avenues of 
commerce and general intercourse. The Pacific is a 
great combination of geographical, ethnological, and po- 
litical factors that is extremely diverse in its sources. 
I have tried to discern within them a unit of human 
commonality, as the seeker after truth is bound to do if 
his discoveries are to be of any value. 

But the result has been an unconventional book. For 
I have sometimes been compelled to make unity of time 
and place subservient to that of subject matter. Hence 
the reader may on occasion feel that the book returns 
to the same field more than once. That has been unavoid- 
able. The problems that are found in Hawaii are essen- 
tially the same as those in Samoa, though differing in 
degree. It has therefore been necessary, after surveying 
the whole field in one continuous narrative of my own 
journey, to assemble stories, types, and descriptions 
which illustrate certain problems, in separate chapters, 



regardless of their geographical settings. If the reader 
bears this in mind he will not be surprised in Book Two 
to find himself in Fiji, Samoa, Hawaii, or New Zealand 
all at once — for issues are always more important than 

The plan of the book has been to give the historical 
approach to the Pacific and its native races ; then to take 
the reader upon a journey of over twenty thousand miles 
around the Pacific. I hope that he will come away with a 
clear impression of the immensity of the Ocean, of the 
diversity of its natural and human elements, and the 
splendor and picturesqueness of its make-up. Out 
of this review certain problems emerge, the problems of 
the relations of native and alien races, of marriages and 
divorces, of markets and ideals — problems that affect the 
primitive races in their own new place in the world. But 
over and above and about these come the issues that 
involve the more advanced races of Asia, Australasia, 
and America — where they impinge upon each other and 
where their interests in these minor races center. This 
is the logic of the Pacific. 

Though the importance of these problems is now ob- 
vious to the world, I feel grateful to those who encour- 
aged me while I still felt myself almost like a voice 
crying in the wilderness, on the subject. I therefore feel 
specially indebted to the editors of North American 
Review, World's Work and the Outlook, who first pub- 
lished some of the material here incorporated. But so 
rapid has been the movement of events that in no case 
has it been possible for me to use more than the essence 
of the ideas there published. In order to bring them up 
to date, they have been completely re-written and made 
an integral part of this book. Two or three of the de- 
scriptive chapters have also appeared in Century Magcu- 
zme and Harper's Monthly, for permission to reprint 
which I am indebted to them. 

There is a further indebtedness which is much more 


difficult of acknowledgment. To my wife, Marjorie 
Barstow, I am under obligation not only for her stead- 
fast encouragement, but for her judgment, understand- 
ing, and untiring patience, without which my career of 
authorship would have been trying indeed. 

Sydney Gkeenbie. 
Greensboro, Vermont, 
August 4, 1921, 




I The Heart of the Pacific 3 

II The Mystery of Mysteries 15 

III Our Frontier in the Pacific 30 

IV The Sublimated, Savage Fijians 52 

V The Sentimental Samoans ... . . . . . 79 

VI The Aphelion of Britain 108 

VII Astride the Equator 128 

VIII The Australian Outlands 143 

IX Our Peg in Asia 158 

X Britain's Rock in Asia 168 

XI China's European Capital 179 

XII World Consciousness 192 



XIII Exit the Noble Savage 205 

XIV Give Us Our Vu Gods Again! 222 

XV His Tattooed Wife 237 

XVI Giving Hearts a New Chance 254 

XVII "This Little Pig Went to Market'' 265 


xii '^ CONTENTS 






XVIII Australasia 281 

XIX Japan and Asia 297 

XX America 312 

XXI Where the Problem Dovetails 330 


XXIII Political Allies and Financial Consorts . . . 364 

XXIV Uncharted Seas 384 

Appendix 395 

Index 397 


Eruption of volcano on the island of Kyushu, Japan . Frontispiece 


Map of the Pacific 16 

Diamond head near Honolulu 20 

The hulk of the German man-of-war, the Adler 20 

After seven days of sea — this emerged 21 

Hilo, Hawaii . . 21 

Even Fijians are loath to forget the arts of their forefathers . . 28 

In giant canoes Heliolithic immigrants roamed the South Seas . 29 

There are only a few Chinese women in Hawaii 36 

A sage in a china shop at Honolulu 36 

Feminine propriety 37 

Whoa ! Let's have our picture taken 37 

Miles away rose the fumes of Kilauea 44 

The largest cauldron of molten rock on earth 44 

A river of rock pouring out into the sea 45 

Whirling eddies of lava undermining frozen lava projections . . 45 

Where the tides turn to stone 48 

A blizzard of fuming heat 48 

The lake of spouting molten lava 49 

A comer of Suva, Fiji 64 

Food for a day's gossip 64 

The long and the short of it 65 

A Hindu patriarch 65 

The scowl indicates a complex 68 

Instructor of the Fijian constabulary 68 

A Fijian Main Street 69 

Little Fijians . 69 

One of the most gifted of Fijian chiefs 76 

Cacarini (Katherine), the chief's daughter 76 




Fijians dance from the hip up 77 

A Fijian wedding 77 

The street along the waterfront of Apia, Samoa 96 

I thought the village back of Apia, Samoa, was deserted, but it 

was only the noon hour 96 

Tattooing of the legs is an essential in Samoa 97 

Contact with California created this combination of scowl, brace- 
lets and boy's boots — but Fulaanu beside her was uncorruptible 97 

Dunedin, New Zealand 112 

Bridges are still luxuries in many places in New Zealand . . 112 

The fiords and sounds of New Zealand 113 

Lake Wanaka, New Zealand 113 

The S. S. Aurora 128 

Mount Cook of the New Zealand Alps in summer 128 

Circular quay, Sydney, Australia 129 

Monument to Captain Cook 129 

One of the oldest Australian residences is now a public domain . 144 

The interior of a wealthy sheep station owner's home in Melbourne 144 

Australian blacks in their native element 145 

An Australian black in Melbourne 145 

Filipino lighters drowsing in the evening shadows 160 

The docile water buffalo is used to walking in mud .... 160 

One can throw a brick and hit seven cathedrals in Manila . . 161 

Cool and silent are the mossy streets of the walled city of Manila 161 

In China drinking-water, soap-suds, soup and sewers all find their 

source in the same stream 176 

Shanghai youngsters putting their heads together to make us out 176 

This old woman is laying down the law to the wild young things 

of China 177 

China could turn these mud houses into palaces if she wished — 

she is rich enough 177 

Fujiyama 192 

Sea, earth and sky 193 

This Hindu has usurped the job of the chieftains' daughters . . 224 

An Indian coolie village 224 

A Maori Haka in New Zealand 225 

A Maori canoe hurdling race 225 



Three views of a Maori woman 240 

A group of whites and half-castes in Samoa 241 

A ship-load of "picture-brides" arriving at Seattle .... 241 

A Maori woman with her children 241 

Beauty is more than skin-deep 256 

A half-caste Fijian maiden 257 

A full-blooded Fijian maiden 257 

Fijian village 272 

Little fish went to this market 272 

Good luck must attend these traders at the doors of the cathedrals 

in Manila 273 

A Fijian bazar is a red letter day 273 

The mountains are called the Remarkables 284 

The Blue Mountains of Australia 284 

Australia denuding herself 285 

Australia is not all desert and plain 288 

People are small amidst Australia's giant tree ferns .... 289 

Japan's first reaction to foreign influence . . . . . . . 304 

Second stage in Westernization 304 

Third stage in Westernization 305 

Fourth stage in Westernization 305 

Lord Lansdowne and Baron Tadasu Hayashi 352 

Prince Ito 352 

Dr. Sun Yat-Sen 352 

Thomas W. Lamont 353 

Wellington Koo 353 

Yukio Osaki, M.P. and Ex-Minister of Justice 353 




The First Side of The Triangle 

• • . stared at the Pacific — and all his men 
Looked at each other with a wild surmise — 
Silent, upon a peak in Darien. 

EXACTLY four centuries after the event immortal- 
ized by Keats, I outstripped Balboa ^s most fantastic 
dreams by setting out upon the Pacific and traversing 
the length and breadth of it. ^^It is a sight/' we are 
told, **in beholding which for the first time any man 
would wish to be alone/' I was. But whereas Balboa's 
desires were accomplished in having obtained sight of 
the Pacific, that achievement only whetted mine. He 

You see here, gentlemen and children mine, how our desires are 
being accomplished, and the end of our labors. Of that we ought to 
be certain, for, as it has turned out true what King Comogre's son told 
of this sea to us, who never thought to see it, so I hold for certain 
that what he told us of there being incomparable treasures in it will 
be fulfilled. God and His blessed Mother who have assisted us, so 
that we should arrive here and behold this sea, will favor us that we 
may enjoy all that there is in it. 

The story of how far he was so assisted is part of the 
tale of this book, for in all the wanderings which are 
the substance of my accomplishment I can recall having 
met with but a half-dozen of Balboa's kinsmen. Instead 
there are streaming backward and forward across the 
Pacific descendants of men Balboa hated and of others of 
whom he knew nothing. 



Balboa was the first to see the ocean. He had left 
his men behind just as they were about to reach the peak 
from which he viewed it. But he was not the first to step 
upon its shores. He sent some of his men down, and 
of them one, Alonso Martin, was the first to have 
that pleasure. Martin dipped his sword dramatically 
into the brine and took possession of it all as far as his 
mind's eye could reach. Yet to none of the men was this 
vast hidden world more than a vision and a hope, and 
the accidental name with which Magellan later christened 
it seems, by virtue of the motives of gain which domi- 
nated these adventurers, anything but descriptive. To be 
pacific was not the way of the kings of Castile ; nor, sad 
to say, is it the way of most of their followers. 

What was it that Balboa took possession of in the 
name of his Castilian kings ? Rather a courageous gam- 
ble, to say the least. The dramatic and fictional possi- 
bilities of such wholesale acquisition are illimitable. In 
the mid-Pacific were a million or more savage cannibals ; 
in the far-Pacific, races with civilizations superior to his 
own. At that very time China was extending the Great 
Wall and keeping in repair the Grand Canal which had 
been built before Balboa's kings were chiefs. Japan 
was already a nation with arts and crafts, and a social 
state sufficiently developed to be an aggressive influence 
in the Oriental world, making inroads on Korea through 
piracy. Korea was powerful enough to force Japan to 
make amends. Four years after Balboa's discovery the 
Portuguese arrived in Canton and opened China for the 
first time to the European world. The Dutch were begin- 
ning to think of Java. It was hardly Balboa's plan to 
make of all these a little gift for his king : his act was but 
the customary flourish of discoverers in those days. Men 
who loved romance more than they loved reality were 
ready to wander over the unkno^vn seas and rake in their 
discoveries for hire. Balboa, Magellan, Drake, roamed 
the seas out of sheer love of wind and sail. Many a man 


set forth in search of treasure never to be heard from 
again; some only to have their passage guessed by vir- 
tue of the signs of white blood in the faces of some of 
the natives. For two hundred years haphazard discov- 
eries and national jealousies confused rather than en- 
lightened the European world. But late in the eighteenth 
century, after a considerable lessening of interest in 
exploration, Captain James Cook began that memorable 
series of voyages which added more definite knowledge to 
the geographical and racial make-up of the South Seas 
than nearly all the other explorers put together. The 
growth of the scientific spirit and the improvement in 
navigation gave him the necessary impetus. Imbued 
with scientific interest, he went to observe the transit of 
Venus and to make close researches in the geography of 
the Pacific. But to George Vancouver falls the praise 
due to a constructive interest in the people whose lands 
he uncovered. Wherever he went he left fruits and 
domestic animals which contributed much to the happi- 
ness of the primitives, and probably laid the foundation 
for the future colonization of these scattered islands by 

Backward and forward across the Pacific through four 
centuries have moved the makers of this new Atlantis. 
First from round Cape Horn, steering for the setting 
sun, then from the Australian continent to the regions 
of Alaska, these shuttles of the ages have woven their 
fabric of the nations. Now the problem is, what is going 
to be done with it? 

I suppose I was really no worse than most people in 
the matter of geography when I set forth on my ven- 
ture. Though the Pacific had lain at my feet for two 
years, I seem to have had no definite notions of the ^in- 
comparable treasures^' that lay therein. Japan was 
stored away in my mind as something to play with. 
Typee, the cannibal Marquesas — ah! there was some- 
thing real and vigorous ! Then the South Sea maidens ! 


Ideal labor conditions in New Zealand! Australia was 
Botany Bay; the Philippines, the water cure. Confucius 
was confusion to me, but Lao-tsze, the ^eat sage of 
China — in his philosophy I had found a meeting-ground 
for East and West. 

But I was sizzling with curiosity. I wanted to bring 
within my own range of experience that ^'unplumbed, 
salt estranging sea" with its area of seventy million 
square miles, equivalent to *' three Atlantics, seventy 
Mediterraneans," and — aside from the hundreds of mil- 
lions of people round its shore — the seventy-odd mil- 
lions within its bosom. Yet of the myths, the beliefs, 
the aspirations of these peoples, even the most knowing 
gave contradictory accounts, and curiosity was perforce 
my compass. 

Something in a voyage westward across the Pacific 
gives one the sense of a great reunion; it is not a per- 
sonal experience, but an historic sensation. One may 
have few incidents to relate, there may be only an occa- 
sional squall. But in place of events is an abstraction 
from world strife, a heading for the beginning of a cycle 
of existence — for Asia, the birthplace of the human 
race. The feeling is that of one making a tour of the 
universe which has lasted ten thousand centuries and is 
but at the moment nearing completion. For eons the 
movement has been a westward one. Races have suc- 
cumbed to races in this westward reach for room. Pur- 
suing the retreating glaciers, mankind snatched up each 
inch of land released, rushing wildly outward. After 
the birth of man there was a split, in which some men 
went westward and became Europeans, some eastward 
and became Asiatics. The Amerindians were the kick of 
that human explosion eastward which occurred some 
time during the Wurm ice age. 

One cannot grasp the significance of the Pacific who 


crosses it too swiftly. Every mapped-out route, every 
guide-book must be laid aside, and schedules must cease 
to count. With half a world of water to traverse, its 
immensity becomes a reality only when one permits one- 
self to be wayward, with every whim a goal. 

A fellow-passenger said to me, **My boss has given 
me two weeks' vacation. '' 

*'Mine has given me a lifetime, '* I answered. 

In that mood I watched the Lurline push its way into 
the San Francisco fogs and out through the fog-choked 
Golden Gate. The fogs stayed with us a space beyond 
and were gone, and the wide ocean lay in every direction 
roundabout us. 

I was bound for Japan by relays. Unable to secure 
through passage to the Land of the Rising Sun, I did the 
next best thing and booked for Honolulu. There I 
planned to wait for some steamer with an unused berth 
that would take me to Kyoto, Japan, in time to attend the 
coronation of the Tenno, the crownless Emperor. After 
all, Honolulu was not such an unfavorable spot in which 
to prepare my soul for the august sight of emperor- 
worship on a grand scale, I thought. 

And at last I was out upon the bosom of the Pacific, 
sailing without time limit or fixed plan, sailing where 
did Cook and Drake and Vancouver, and knowing virtu- 
ally as little of what was about me as did they. Our 
ship became the axis round which wheeled the universe, 
and progress ^^a succession of days which is like one 
day." We went on and on, and still the circle was 
true. We moved, yet altered nothing. When the sky 
was overcast, the ocean paled in sympathy ; when it was 
bright, the whitecapped, cool blue surface of the sea 
abandoned itself to the light. At night the cleavage be- 
tween sea and sky was lost. Then we lost distance, alti- 
tude, depth, and even speed. All became illusive — a time 
for strong reason. 

Then came a storm. The vast disk, the never-shifting 


circle shrank in the gathering mist. From the prow of 
the ship, where I loved most to be, the world became 
more lonely. The iron nose of the vessel burrowed into 
the blue-green water, thrusting it back out of the way, 
curling it over upon a volume of wind which struggled 
noisily for release. The blue became deeper, the 
strangled air assumed a thick gray color and emerged 
in a fit of sputtering querulousness. But the ship lunged 
on, as unperturbed as the Bhodistava before Mara, the 
Evil One, sure that he was becoming Buddha. 

We were dipping southward and soon tasted the full 
flavor of the luscious tropical air. The ship never more 
than swayed with the swells. During the days that fol- 
lowed there was never more than the most elemental 
squall. The nights were as clear and balmy as the days. 
For seven days we danced and made merry to Hawaiian 
melodies thrummed by an Hawaiian orchestra, or 
screeched by an American talking-machine, or hammered 
by a piano-player. The warm air began to play the devil 
with our feelings. 

Thus seven days passed. I had taken to sleeping out 
on deck, under the open sky. The moon was brilliant, 
the sea as smooth as a pond. I was awakened by whis- 
pered conversation at five o^clock of that last day and 
found a group of women huddling close on the forward 
deck. Their hair was streaming down their backs, their 
feet were bare, and their bodies wrapped in loose kimo- 
nos. Some of the officers were pointing to the southwest- 
em horizon, where a barely perceptible streak of smoke 
was rising over the rim of the sea. It was from Kilauea, 
the volcano on the island of Hawaii, two hundred miles 

The air was fresh and balmy as on the day the earth 
was born. Rolling cumulous clouds sought to postpone 
the day by retarding the rising sun. Lighthouse lights 
blinked their warnings. Molokai, the leper island, 
emerged from the darkness. A blaze of sunlight broke 


through the clouds and day was in full swing. And as we 
neared the island of Oahu, a full-masted wind-jammer, 
every strip of sail spread to the breeze, came gliding 
toward us from Honolulu. 

By noon we were in the open harbor, — a fan-spread 
of still water. The Lurline glided on and turned to the 
right and we were before the little city of Honolulu. 
I can still see the young captain on the bridge, pacing 
from left to right, watching the water, issuing quiet direc- 
tions to the sailor who transmitted them, by indicator, 
to the engine-room. We edged up to the piers amid a 
profusion of greetings from shore and appeals for coins 
from brown-skinned youngsters who could a moment 
later be seen chasing them in the water far below the 

This, then, is progress. In 1778, Captain Cook was 
murdered by these islanders. To-day they ^* grovel' ' in 
the seas for petty cash. One hundred and forty years ! 
Seven days ! 

But Hawaii was only my half-way house. I was still 
reaching out for Japan. According to the advice of 
steamship agencies I might have waited seven years 
before any opportunity for getting there would come 
my way. At twelve o'clock one day I learned that the 
Niagara was in port. She was to sail for the Antipodes 
at two. By two I was one of her passengers. Hadn't 
*^my boss" given me a lifetime's vacation? 

The world before me was an unknown quantity, as it 
doubtless is to at least all but one in a million of the 
inhabitants of our globe. My ticket said Sydney, Aus- 
tralia. How long would it take us ? Two weeks 1 What 
should we see en route ? Two worlds ? Here, in one sin- 
gle journey I should cut a straight line across the routes 
of Magellan, Drake, Cook, and into those of Tasman, — 
all the great navigators of the last four hundred years. 


Here, then, I was to trace the steps of Melville, of Steven- 
son, of Jack London, — largely with the personal recom- 
mendations of Jack, — and of one then still unfamed, 
Frederick O'Brien. All the courage in the face of the 
unknown, all the conflicts between the world civilizations 
in their various stages of development, all the dreams of 
romance, of future welfare and achievement, would un- 
fold in my progress southward and fall into two much- 
talked-of and little-understood divisions — East and 
West. I was to discover for myself what it was that 
Balboa and his like had taken possession of in their gran- 
diloquent fashion and were ready to defend against all 
comers. Yet the flag at the mast was not Balboa's flag, 
nor Tasman 's, and the passengers among whom fate had 
wheeled me were, with one exception, neither Spanish 
nor Dutch, but British. As long as I moved from San 
Francisco westward and as long as I remained in Hono- 
lulu, I was, as far as customs and people were concerned, 
in America. But from the moment I considered striking 
off diagonally across the South Seas in the direction of 
the Antarctic I was thrown among Britons. The clerk in 
the steamship office was Canadian, the steamer was 
British, the passengers were British, and the cool, casual 
way in which the Niagara kicked herself oif from the pier 
and slipped out into the harbor was confirmation of a 
certain cleavage. For there was none of the gaiety which 
accompanies the arrival and departure of American 
vessels, — no music, no serpentines, no cheering. We 
just took to our screws and the open sea as though glad 
to get away from an uncordial ''week-end.'' This was a 
British liner that was to cut across the equator, to climb 
over the vast ridge of earth and dip down into the Antip- 
odes. We were to leave America far behind. Hencefor- 
ward, with but the single exception of tiny Pago Pago, 
Samoa, we could not enter an American owned port, — and 
on this route would miss even that one. And now that 
mandates have become the vogue, there is in all that world 


of water hardly an important spot that does not fly the 
Union Jack. The sense of private ownership in all that 
could be surveyed gave to the bearing of the passengers 
an air of dignity which was not always latent in the in- 

Meanwhile the ship pressed steadily on, coldly indiffer- 
ent, fearless and emotionless. We were nearing the 
equator, and the days in its neighborhood steeped us all 
in drooping feebleness. Climate gets us all, ultimately. 
We forgot one another beneath the heavy weight of 
nothingness which hangs over that equatorial world. 
Sleep within my cabin was impossible, so I had the 
steward bring me a mattress out on deck. At midnight 
a heavy wind turned the air suddenly so cold that I had 
to secure a blanket. The wind howling round the mast 
and the flapping of the canvas sounded like a tragedy 
without human agency. The night was pitch-black and 
the blackness was intensified by intermittent streaks of 
lightning. But there was no rain. 

It was Tuesday, yet the next day was Thursday. 
Where Wednesday went I have never been able to find 
out. We had arrived at the point in the Pacific where 
one day swallows up another and leaves none. The 
European world, measuring the earth from its own 
vantage-point, had allotted no day for the mid-Pacific, 
so that instead of arriving at Suva, Fiji, in proper 
sequence of time, we were both a day late and a day 
ahead. We had cut across the 180th meridian, where 
time is dovetailed. 

That afternoon we sighted land for the first time in 
seven days. Alofa Islands, pale blue, smooth-edged, were 
a living lie to reality. A peculiar feeling came over me 
in passing without touching terra firma. It was like the 
longing for the sun after days and days of gray, the 
longing for rain in the desert. It was the longing for the 
return to the actualities of life after days on the unva- 
riable sea. And presently I was in Fiji, and the Niagara 


sailed on without me. Once again I changed my course 
to wander among the South Seas and leave Sydney for 
the future. 

Yet even on land he who has been brought up on a con- 
tinent cannot escape a feeling of isolation, the conscious- 
ness of being completely surrounded by water. After 
you have had the deep beneath you for seven days, and 
again seven days, you begin to feel that even the islands 
are but floating in the same fluid. The fact that you can- 
not go anywhere without riding the waves, and that it 
takes two whole days by steamer to get from Fiji to 
Samoa, and four from Fiji to New Zealand, and then four 
again between New Zealand and Australia, a water-con- 
sciousness takes possession of you, and the islands be- 
come mere ledges upon which you rest occasionally. 
Something of the joy of being a bird on the wing is the 
experience of the traveler in the Pacific seas. 

Imagine, then, my delight and surprise, early one 
morning on my return trip from Samoa to Fiji, to find 
the Talune sidling up to an unknown isle considerably 
off our course. It was, we were told, the island of Niua- 
foou, and was visited every month or so to deliver and 
take off the mails. It was a chill morning. Everything 
was blue with morning cold. The waves dashed in des- 
peration against the cliffs. Glad was I that we were not 
run ashore, for I have never yet been able to see the 
virtue in ice-cold sea-water. Fancy our consternation 
when down slid a native, head first, from the bluff half 
a mile away into the water, as we slide into a swimming- 
pool. For a moment he was lost behind the tossing 
crests. Then we saw him coming slowly toward us, rest- 
ing on a plank and paddling with his free hand, seeming 
like a tremendous water-spider. Tied to a stick like to a 
mast was a tightly wrapped bundle of mail. The Talune 
kept swerving like an impatient horse, waiting for the 
arrival of that amphibian. When he came alongside he 
dropped the little bundle into a bucket let down to him 


at the end of a rope, and kicked himself away. A second 
man arrived ^vith a packet, — the parcels-post man of 
Niuafoou. A third came merely as an inspector. Mean- 
while, on the bluff the whole community had gathered 
for the irregular lunar event. 

Or, days later, after my second call at Fiji as the ship 
pressed steadily on toward Auckland, New Zealand, we 
passed the island of Mbenga where dwell the mystic fire- 
walkers so vividly portrayed by Basil Thomson in his 
* ^ South Sea Yarns. ' ' I wished that I had had a ' ' callous ' ^ 
on my habits in cleanliness to protect me from the un- 
pleasantnesses of the vessel, as have those Fijian fire- 
walkers on their soles, then I should have been happier. 
Their soles are half an inch thick. I should have needed 
a callous at least two inches thick to endure the Talune 
more than the six days it took us to get from Samoa to 

Early in the morning of the fourth day of our journey 
from Suva, Fiji, we passed the Great Barrier Island, 
which stands fifty miles from Auckland. We ^tept down 
the Hauraki Gulf, passed Little Barrier Island, and 
entered Waitemata Harbor, where we dropped anchor, 
awaiting the doctor ^s examination. Just from the trop- 
ics, I was taken by surprise to find the wind biting and 
chill as we went farther south, and here at the gates of 
Auckland the coat I had unnecessarily carried on my arm 
for months became most welcome. Before I could adjust 
myself to the new landing-place, I had to readjust my 
mind to another fact which had never been any vital 
part of my psychology, — that henceforth the farther 
south I should go the colder it would feel, and that though 
it was the sixth of November, the longer I remained the 
warmer it would become. In the presence of such phe- 
nomena, losing a thirteenth day of one's month while 
crossing the 180th meridian was a commonplace. The 
habits of a short lifetime told me to put on my coat, for 
winter was coming. But here I had come amongst queer 


New Zealanders who told me to unbutton it, even to shed 
it, for spring, they assured me, was not far behind. 

And then for the first time in months I felt the spirit 
of the landlubber work its way into my consciousness 
again. I had cut a diagonal line of 6,000 miles across a 
mysterious, immeasurable sea, and my reason, my heart 
and my body longed for respite from its benumbing in- 
fluence. I had seen enough to last me a long time. I 
fairly ached for retirement inland, for sight of a cool, 
still lake, for contact with snow-capped mountain peaks. 
More than all else, I yearned for the cold, for the scent of 
snow, for the snug satisfaction of self-generated warmth. 
My soul and my body seemed seared and scorched by the 
blazing tropical sun under the wide, unsheltered seas. 
Later, when I should be *'welP^ again, I thought, I would 
risk the climb up over the equator, the curve of the world 
that lies so close to the sun. 

And now that I was settled I had time to reflect on all 
I had seen. I had cut a diagonal line through the heart of 
the Pacific, and had seen in succession the various types 
of native races — the Hawaiians, the Fijians, the Samoans 
— while all about me were the Maories. So I reviewed 
and classified my memories before I started north on an- 
other diagonal course which led me among the trans- 
planted white peoples of Australia and Asia. Yet one 
question preceded all others ; whence came these Pacific 
peoples and when? The answer to that must be given 
before specific descriptions of the South Sea Islanders 
can be clear. 



NOT even the speed of the fastest steamer afloat can 
transport the white man from his sky-scraper and 
subway civilization over the hump of the earth and down 
into the South Seas without his undergoing a psycho- 
logical metamorphosis that is enchanting. He cannot 
take his hard-and-fast materialistic illusions along with 
him. Were he a passenger on the magic carpet itself, 
and both time and space eliminated, the instant he found 
himself among the tawny ones he would forget enough 
of square streets and square buildings, square meals and 
square deals, to become another person. Upon that cool 
dewdrop of the universe, the Pacific, the giant steamer 
chugs one rhythmically to rest and one dreams as only 
one in a new life can dream, without being disturbed by 
past or future. 

One slumbers through this adolescent experience with 
the smile and the conceit of youth. At last one arrives. 
The enormous ship, upon whose deck have shuffled the 
games of children too busy to play, slips away from the 
pier and is swallowed up in the evening twilight. Left 
thus detached from iron and certainty, one wonders what 
would happen if there never should be iron and certainty 
again in life. What if that ship should never return, 
nor any other, and the months and years should lose 
track of themselves, and memory become feeble as to 
facts and fumble about in hyperbolic aspirations ? What 
if the actualities that knotted and gnarled one^s emo- 
tions, or flattened them out in precise conventions, should 



cease to affect one's daily doings? What if, for you, 
never again were there to be factories and dimensions of 
purse, or ambitions that ramble about in theories and 
ethics, but only the need of filling one's being with food 
and converting it into energy for the further procuring 
of food, and the satisfaction of impulses that lead only 
to the further vent of impulse, — and in that way a thou- 
sand years went by ? What would the white man be when 
the lure of adventure and discovery suddenly revealed 
him to a world phenomenally different from the one he 
left behind in the bourn of his forgotten past? 

As I let myself loose from such moorings as still held 
me in touch with my world, the wonder grew by inver- 
sion. When the Niagara, wingless dinosaur of the deep, 
slid out into the lagoon beyond, I felt overcome with a 
sense of drooping loneliness, like one going off into a 
trance, like one for whom amazement is too intoxicating. 

It had not been that way in Hawaii, for there already 
the grip of the girder has made rigid the life of nature 
and the people. But down beneath the line one could still 
look over the corrugated iron roofs of sheds and forget. 
Everywhere in the Fiji or the Samoan islands something 
of antiquity cools one's senses with unheard question- 
ings. Instantly one wants to know how it happens that 
these people came to be here, what accident or lure of 
paleolithic life led them into this isolation. One cannot 
get away from the feeling — however far inland one may 
go — that the outer casings of this little lump of solid 
earth beneath us is a fluent sea, a sea endless to unaided 
longing. Homesickness never was like that, for ordinary 
homesickness is too immediate, too personal. But this 
longing for contact which comes over one in the mid- 
Pacific islands is universal; it is a sudden consciousness 
of eternity, and of the atom. One begins to conceive of 
days and events and conditions as absolutely incompat- 
ible with former experience. One's mind is set aglow 
with inquiry, and over and over again, as one looks into 


the face of some shy native or some spoiled flapper, one 
wonders whence and how. And a slight fear : what if I, 
too, were now unable ever to return, shoula I soon revert 
to these customs, to the feeling of distance between men 
and women, to the nakedness, not so much of body as of 

That was what happened to Tahiti, to Maoriland, to 
Hawaii, to the popping peaks of illusive worlds which to 
ante-medieval isolated Europe could not exist because it 
did not know of them. For thousands of years these 
innumerable islands in the Pacific had been the habita- 
tion of passionate men, of men who had come out in 
their vessels from over Kim's way with decks that car- 
ried a hundred or more persons ; persons who doubtless 
also entertained themselves with games because too busy 
to play ; persons with hopes and aspirations. A thousand 
and more years ago the present inhabitants of Polynesia 
may have dreamed of rearing a new India, a wider Cau- 
casia, just as the Pilgrims and the persecuted of Europe 
dreamed, or the ambitious Englanders of New Zealand. 
Welcomed here and ejected there, they passed on and 
on and on, as far as Samoa and Tahiti. And slowly the 
film of forgetfulness fixed their experiences. The big 
ships and the giant canoes rotted in the harbors. They 
had come to stay. The sun was burning their bridges 
behind them. What need for means of going farther? 
Eden had been found. And the soft, sweet flesh of young 
maidens began, generation after generation, to be cov- 
ered with the tattooings of time, the records of the num- 
ber of times the race had been reborn. So, while the 
nakedness of youth was being clothed, mind after mind 
stored up unforgettable tales of exploit and of passion, 
till fancy sang with triumph over things transitory, and 
tawny men felt that never would they have to wander 

Is not this the history of every race on earth? Has 
not every nation gloated over its antiquity and its secu- 


rity? Was not permanence a surety, and pride the father 
of ease? And have not song and story been handed down 
from generation to generation, or, with the more skilled 
and the more proud races, been graved in stone or wax or 
wood? And have not the more mighty and the more 
venturesome come over the pass, or over the crest and 
invaded and conquered and changed? 

So it was when Polynesia awoke to see that which could 
only be a god, because fashioned in the form of its own 
imaginings, swept by its gorgeous sails into view, — the 
ship of Captain Cook. Thus the racial memories that 
had lain dormant in the Polynesians for centuries were 
revived by Europeans. Narrative renders vividly their 
surprise and wonder, especially on seeing the vessel girt 
in iron such as had drifted in on fragments from the 
unknown wrecks and had become to these natives more 
precious than gold. 

It seems to me that in the hearts and minds of helio- 
lithic man when he ventured eastward across the chain 
of islands which links, or rather separates, Polynesia 
and Melanesia from its home in Asia, he must have felt 
just as Cook and Vancouver and Magellan felt. Bit by 
bit I picked up those outer resemblances which give to 
men the world over their basic brotherliness. They may 
hate one another justly, but they cannot get away from 
that fraternity. And they generally reveal relationship 
when they least expect it. 

Thus, as we kicked our way up the smooth waters of 
the Rewa River, Fiji, in a launch laden with black faces 
and proud shocks of curly hair, mixed with sleek people 
of slightly lighter-hued India, a suggestion of the origin 
of these people came to me. As these alien Indians, so 
must have come these native negroids. I should have 
felt successful in my method of inquiry, hopeful of feel- 
ing my way into a solution of this wondering, had not an 
outrigger canoe dragged itself across our course with a 
dilapidated sail of bark-cloth. 


** Where did they learn to sail?*' I asked the white 

**They have always known it,'' he answered. **But 
you seldom see these sails nowadays." 

I wanted to take a snap-shot of it, but the lights of 
evening, as those of tradition, were against me, and we 
were clipping along too rapidly. The last example of an 
art which brought the whole race eastward was being 
carelessly retained. 

A few days later I caught another glimpse of a past 
that was working my sun-baked brain too much. We 
were going up the river in a comfortable launch, some 
missionaries and I, their unknown guest. We were about 
twenty or thirty miles up the Rewa. With us was a 
young native who spoke English rather well. I plied 
him with questions, but his shyness and reticence, so 
characteristic of isolated human beings, inhibited him. 
At last he spoke, with an eye to my reactions, of the meth- 
ods of warfare along the palisades of the river. 

**In my boyhood days," he said, ^^ nobody knew any- 
thing of his neighbor. People lived just a mile apart, 
but you white people were not much stranger to us than 
they were to one another. There was constant war. We 
children were afraid to venture very far from our vil- 
lage. ' ' 

**Has that always been the way?" 

**I suppose so, but I don't know," and that was all I 
could get out of him. Yet it has not always been so, for 
nothing is always so among people, and the Melanesian- 
Fijians in many cases have welcomed and received among 
them Samoans and Tongans, races distinctly different 
from them. There is a definite separation, however, be- 
tween ourselves and the Fijians that is obvious even to 
the casual tourist, and affords no easy solution of the 
whence and why. 

Not so among the Polynesians as in Samoa, where one 
instantly feels at home. That which attracted me to the 


Fijian was his incompatibility, his unconscious aloofness, 
his detachment. 

There is, however, not much greater difference between 
some of the races in the Pacific and the white men than 
there is between any two of the European peoples them- 
selves. There is less difference between an Hawaiian 
and a Maori, though they are separated by nearly four 
thousand miles of unbroken sea, than there is between an 
Englishman and a Frenchman with only a narrow chan- 
nel between them. In the Pacific, the chain of relation- 
ship between races from New Zealand to Hawaii is some- 
what similar to that running north and south in Europe. 
The variation becomes similarly more pronounced in the 
latitudinal direction. In other words, the diversity ex- 
isting between European and Turk is something akin to 
that between Samoan and Fijian, — from the point of 
view of appearances. 

Something of the kinship of peoples scattered over the 
millions of square miles of Pacific seas becomes evident, 
not so much in their own features and customs as in the 
way in which they lend themselves to fusion with the 
modern incoming nomads of the West. Something of the 
possible migrations said to have taken place in that un- 
romantic age of man somewhere back in Pleistocene days 
may be grasped from the streams that now flow in and 
become part of the life of the South Pacific. Scientists 
detect in the Melanesian-Fijian slight traces of Aryan 
blood without being definite as to how it got there. When 
I ran into a little fruit shop in Suva, just before sailing, 
to taste for the last time the joys of mummy-apple, I 
glimpsed for a second the how. For the proprietor was 
a stout, gray-haired, dark-complexioned individual from 
the island of St. Helena. In a vivid way he described to 
me the tomb of Napoleon, spicing his account with a few 
incidents of the emperor's life on the island. Should 
no great flood of Europeans come to dilute the present 
slight infusions, the centuries that lie in waiting will 


Once a volcano, now a fortress 

Wrecked in the hurricane of 1889 at Samoa 


Ajq oasis in the dosert of the Paeific 


perhaps augment this accidental European strain into 
some romantic story. In a thousand years it would not 
at all be impossible for this story of Napoleon to become 
part of Fijian legend, and for children to refer to that 
unknown god of war as their god and the father of their 
ideals. This genial islander from St. Helena will puzzle 
anthropologists and afford them opportunities for con- 
jecture, fully as much as the evidence of Aryan and 
Iberian races in Asia and the islands east of it does 

Or the wail of the Indian, into whose shop I strayed 
to get out of the sun, at the downfall of ^^his'' empire, 
may be the little seed of thought out of which the aspira- 
tions of a Fiji reborn will spring. 

According to the traditions of almost every race on 
earth, the place of its nativity is the cradle of mankind. 
Nor does mere accident satisfy. In nearly every instance 
not only is the belief extant among natives that their race 
was born there, but that, be the birthplace island or con- 
tinent, it came into existence by some form of special 
creation as an abiding-place for a chosen people. The 
Japanese kami, Izanagi and Izanami, were commissioned 
by the other gods to **make, consolidate, and give birth 
to the drifting land.'' ** According to the Samoan cos- 
mogony, first there was Leai, nothing; thence sprung 
Nanamu, fragrance; then Efuefu, dust; then Iloa, per- 
ceivable ; then Maua, obtainable ; then Eleele, earth ; then 
Papatu, high rocks ; then Maataanoa, small stones ; then 
Maunga, mountains. Then Maunga married Malaeliua, 
or changeable meeting-place, and had a daughter called 
Fasiefu, piece of dust." The more primitive Melane- 
sians, the Fijians, and the Australoids are less definite in 


their conceptions of whence they came, having in many 

cases no traditions or myths to offer. 

With all our scientific inquiry, we are to-day still lost 

in the maze of probable origins of various races. The 

birthplace of man is as much of a mystery as it ever was. 

Ninety years ago, Darwin said of the South Pacific: 

^* Hence, both in space and time, we seem to be brought 

somewhat near to that great fact — that mystery of 

mysteries — the first appearance of new beings on this 

earth.'* And in 1921 Roy Chapman Andrews set out 

upon a third expedition to Mongolia in search of relics 

and fossils of the oldest man. He writes : 

With the exception of the Java specimen, all fossil human fragments 
have been discovered in Europe or England. Nevertheless, the leading 
scientists of the day believe that Asia was the early home of the human 
race and that whatever light may be thrown upon the origin of man 
will come from the great central Asian plateau north of the Himalaya 

Thus his antiquity will doubtless interest man to his 
dying day. Slogans epitomizing the spirit of races fan 
the flames of human conflict. Conflict wears down the 
differences between them, or shatters them and scatters 
them to the whirling winds. Doubtless the records which 
seem to us so lucid and so permanent will vanish from 
the earth in the next half -million years, and our descend- 
ants will mumble in terms of vague tradition expressions 
of their beginning. Or perhaps their linguistics will 
make ours vulgar and primitive by comparison. Pos- 
sibly, if our progress and development are not impeded, 
the hundreds of tongues now spoken on this globe will 
seem childishly incomplete, and in their stead will be 
one extremely simple but flexible language spoken in 
every islet in the seas. 

What our present world will seem to the man of the 
future, the world of the Pacific, wreathed in races of 
every hue — Asia, Australasia, the Americas — seems to 
us now. In the wide spaces of the Pacific we have several 
thousands of islands, anchored at various distances from 


one another in about seventy million square miles of sea. 
Grouped with a healthy regard for the freedom of indi- 
vidual needs there are enough separate races, speaking 
separate languages and abiding by separate customs, to 
make the many-colored map of Europe seem one primary 
hue by comparison. Yet all the romance which brightens 
the pages of European history and its intake of Asiatic 
culture is ordinary beside the mysterious silence that 
steeps the origin and age of the cultures of the Pacific. 
There, beneath the heavy curtain of unknown antiquity, 
dwell innumerable people who, if they are not the Adams 
and Eves of creation, have wandered very little from 
the birthplace of the human race. It seems as though 
the overflow of living creatures from the heart of Asia 
had found an underground channel back into the Garden 
of Eden, like some streamlet lost in the sands of the sea- 
shore, but worming its way into the very depths below. 
Polynesia, Micronesia, Melanesia, are the names by 
which we know them. The drawer of water, as he lets 
his bucket down to the farthest reaches of the wells of 
antiquity, finds in his vessel evidence of kinship with 
races now covering the whole of Europe. Romance has 
it that the Amerindians are descendants of the Lost 
Tribes of Israel and Mormon missionaries are carrying 
that charm among the Polynesians. They are very suc- 
cessful in New Zealand among the Maories. Like a great 
current of warm water in the sea, the Polynesian races 
have run from Hawaii to Samoa, the Marquesas, Tahiti, 
and Maoriland. How they got there is still part of con- 

To most of us, the South Seas mean simply cannibals 
and naked girls. Dark skins and giant bodies are synony- 
mous with Polynesians. The grouping of these peoples 
into Poly-Mela-Micronesian has some scientific meaning 
which, if not esoteric and awe-inspiring, slips by our 
consciousness as altogether too highbrow to deserve con- 
sideration. Or we are satisfied with pictures such as 


Melville and 'Brien have given us, pictures that as long 
as the world is young will thrill us as do those of King- 
lake and Marco Polo. But those of us who have gone 
beyond our boyhood rhymes of *'Wild man from Borneo 
just come to town'* and have been White Shadows our- 
selves, are keenly interested in the whence and the why 
of these people. Can it be that Darwin was right? Have 
we approached the spot whereon man made his first ap- 
pearance on the earth? Or are others right whose sound- 
ings divulge a hidden course that gives these people a 
birthplace ten thousand miles away, in central Asia? Is 
it that all the people of the world were first made men 
on land that is now beneath the waters of the Pacific, — 
men who, because of geological changes, fell back across 
Asia, leaving scattered remnants in the numerous island 
peaks now standing alone in that sun-baked world? 
*^ There is ground for the belief," says Griffith Taylor,^ 
''that the Pacific Ocean was smaller in the Pleistocene 
period, being reduced by a belt of land varying in width 
from 100 to 700 miles. ' ' Or are the further calculations 
more accurate, — that there have been constant migra- 
tions of people from Asia? 

Slowly scientists are groping their way through leg- 
end. No one who has been among the South Sea people, 
and those of the western Pacific islands, can help being 
impressed with certain remarkable likenesses between 
them and European people. Present-day anthropolo- 
gists are at variance with the old evolutionary school 
which believed in ''a general, uniform evolution of cul- 
ture in which all parts of mankind participated.'' ''At 
present," according to Franz Boas, "at least among cer- 
tain groups of investigators in England and also in 
Germany, ethnological research is based on the concept 
of migration and dissemination rather than upon that of 
evolution. " In connection with Polynesia and the Pacific 
peoples, it seems to be fairly well known that they drifted 

* Griffith Taylor: Geographical Review, January, 1912, p. 61. 


from island to island in giant canoes. They had no sails 
nor compass, but, guided by stars and directed by the 
will of the winds, they roved the high seas and landed 
wherever the shores were hospitable. During ages when 
Europe dreaded the sea and hugged the land, when the 
European universe consisted of a flat table-like earth and 
a dome-like heaven of stars, — even before the vikings 
ventured on their wild marauding excursions, the Poly- 
nesians made of the length and breadth of the Pacific a 
highway for their canoes. ^* Somewhat before this 
(450 A.D.) one bold Polynesian had reached polar ice in 
his huge war canoe. ' * ^ Our Amerindians dared the 
swiftest rapids in their frail bark canoes ; but what was 
that compared with the courage and love of freedom 
which sent this lone Polynesian out upon the endless 
waters of the Pacific! Some day a poet will give him his 
deserving place among the great heroes. 

Dr. Macmillan Brown tells us that the Easter Islands 
were once the center of a great Pacific empire. Here 
men came from far and wide to pay tribute to one ruling 
monarch. He builded himself a Venice amid the coral 
reefs, with canals walled in by thirty feet of stone. Fear 
of the control over the winds which this monarch was 
said to possess, and superstitious dread of his ire brought 
the vassal islanders to him with their choicest pos- 
sessions, though he had no military means of com- 
pelling respect. This monarch, like the Pharaohs who 
built the pyramids, must have had thousands of laborers 
to have been able to cut, shape, and build the giant plat- 
forms of stone or the great canals which are referred to 
as the Venice of the Pacific. It must have taken no little 
engineering skill so to adjust them to one another as to 
require no mortar to keep them together. In the Caro- 
line Islands, now under Japanese mandate, there still 
stand remains of stone buildings of a forgotten day^s 

* Griffith Taylor: Geographical Review, January, 1912, p. 61. 


These relics of unknown days make it reasonably cer- 
tain that after having been ^*shof out from the main- 
land, the early people of the Pacific reached all the way 
across to the island of Savaii, in the Samoan group, and 
later as far as Tahiti. Why they did not go on to the 
Americas is hard to say. Perhaps the virginity of the 
islands and the congenial climate offered these artless 
savages all they desired. Beyond were cold and drudg- 
ery. Here, though labor and war were not wanting, still 
there was balmy weather. Probably they were the tail- 
end of the great migration of the Wurm ice age. More 
venturesome than most, and having arrived at lands 
roomy enough for their small numbers, they must have 
called themselves blessed in that much good luck and 
decided to take no further chances with the generosity 
of the gods. 

Linguistic and ethnological data link the Polynesians with the 
Koreans, Japanese, Formosans, Indonesians, and Javanese. Legends 
and genealogies show that about the dawn of our era the early Polyne- 
sians were among the Malay Islands. By 450 A. d. they had reached 
Samoa and by 850 A. d., Tahiti. ... In 1175 A. d. the primitive Maoriori 
were driven out of New Zealand to the Chatham Isles. No doubt New 
Zealand was first reached several hundred years before this. Tahiti 
seems to have been a center of dispersal, as Percy Smith has pointed 
out in his interesting book "Hawaiki." We must, however, remember 
that Melanesians preceded the Polynesians to many of these islands 
at a much earlier date.* 

However, mutation is the law of life. Even these 
small groups split into smaller factions. Some went south 
to the islands of the Antipodes and called themselves 
Maories; others went north of the equator and called 
themselves Hawaiians. The physical distribution of all 
the races in the Pacific, rooting, as we have seen, in 
Asia, represents a virile plant the stem of which runs 
eastward and is known as Micronesia and Melanesia, 
with the flowers, in all their diversified loveliness, 
Hawaii, Samoa, Tahiti, the Marquesas, and Maoriland. 

* Griffith Taylor: Geographical Review, January, 1921. 


What made them what they are ? How is it that being, 
as it seems, people of extraction similar to that of Euro- 
peans, they have remained in such a state of arrested 
development? How is it that they became cannibals, 
eaters of men^s flesh? Again the answer is not far to 
seek. Just like the Europeans, they followed the line of 
least resistance, having as yet developed no artificial or 
brain-designed weapons against the stress of nature. 
Europeans, in time of great famine, have not themselves 
been above cannibalism. In our Southern States we have 
isolated mountaineers to show us what men can revert to. 
And in northern China to-day, essentially Buddhist and 
non-flesh-eating, cannibalism was reported during the 
famine last year. 

But Europe had what Polynesia did not have. Driven 
by the force of necessity out of continental Asia, Poly- 
nesia hid itself away in the cracks and crannies of the 
Pacific; Europeans spread over a small continent and 
broke up into innumerable warring and learning tribes. 
Backward and forward along peninsular Europe, men 
communicated to one another their emotional and objec- 
tive experiences. The result has been a culture amazing 
only in its diversity, — amazing because, with contact and 
interchange of racial experiences, the coursing and re- 
coursing of the same blood, stirred and dissolved, it is 
amazing that such diversity should persist. 

But in Polynesia, Melanesia, Micronesia, — in all the 
distant land-specks of the Pacific, — contact was impos- 
sible in the larger sense. Though canoes did slide into 
strange harbors or drift or row in and about the atolls, 
they afforded at most romantic stimuli to these isolated 
groups. Infusion of culture was very difficult. At most, 
these causal meetings added to or confused the stories 
of their origin. And in a little time the different island 
groups forgot their beginnings. 

Presently, the pressure upon their small areas with 
the limited food supply began to make itself felt. Some 


method had to be devised for the limitation of population 
and to keep in food what few numbers there were. There 
seem to have been no indigenous animals anywhere in 
the islands. Darwin found only a mouse, and of this he 
was uncertain as to whether it really was indigenous. 
Except for a few birds, and the giant Moa which roamed 
the islands of New Zealand, animal life was everywhere 
insufficient to the needs of so vital a people as were these. 
But much less is heard to-day of the cannibalism said to 
have run rampant among them. It is even disputed. 
The fruits of the tropics, doubtless rich in vitamines, are 
peculiarly suited to the sustenance of so spirited a race. 

The Polynesians found in the various islands they ap- 
proached, during that slow, age-long migration eastward, 
tribes and islanders inferior to themselves. So did the 
Europeans in their movement westward. The primitive 
Caucasians remained and mixed slightly along the way, 
leaving here and there traces of their contact. And their 
ancestors in Asia forgot their exiled offspring. 

With the landing of Cook at Tahiti, at Poverty Bay, 
at Hawaii, the counter invasion of the Pacific began. For 
over a hundred years now the European has been inject- 
ing his culture, his vices, his iron exactitude into the so- 
called primitive races. These hundred years make the 
second phase of civilization in the Pacific. It might have 
been the last. It might have meant the reunion of Cau- 
casic peoples, their blending and their amalgamation, 
and the world would have lived happily ever after. But 
the eternal triangle plays its part in politics no less than 
in love, and the third period, the period of rivalry and 
jealousy, of suspicion and scandal, of still-bom accom- 
plishment in many fields has set in. And tragedy, which 
men love because it is closest to truth, is on the stage. 

The third period dates largely from the discovery and 

F. W. Caine, Photo 





r ^ 





the awakening of Japan. It is the blocking of the Euro- 
pean invasion of the Pacific, and the institution of a 
counter move, — that of the expansion of Asia into the 
Pacific, — which will be treated in the last section of this 

To-day, Polynesia is barely holding its own. Its sons 
have studied ^* abroad,'' they have been in our schools 
and universities, they have fought in ^^our'' war. Eap- 
idly they are putting aside the uncultured simplicity of 
adolescence. For long they treasured drifts of iron- 
girded flotsam which the waves in their impartiality cast 
upon their shores; to-day iron is supplanting thatch, 
and a belated iron age is reviving their imaginations, 
just as iron guns and leaden bullets shattered them a 
century ago. In the light of their astonishment. Rip 
Van Winkle is a crude conception; Wells has had to 
revise and enlarge **When the Sleeper Wakes'' into 
* * The Outline of History. ' ' No man knows what is preg- 
nant in the Pacific ; nor will the next nine eons reveal the 



HONOLULU marks our frontier in the Pacific. 
Honolulu has been conquered. If the conquest is 
that of love, then the offspring will be lovely ; if of mere 
force, or intrigue, then Heaven help Honolulu! As far 
as outward signs go, we are in a city American in most 
details. The numerous trolleys, the modem buildings, 
the motor-cars, the undaunted Western efficiency which 
no people is able to withstand has gripped Hawaii in an 
iron grip. True that the foreign (that is, Hawaiian, 
Chinese, Japanese, Portuguese) districts are steeped in 
squalor, but this is old Honolulu. The new is a little 
Los Angeles with all its soullessness, and it has taken 
all the illusions of modem civilization to accomplish it. 
The first illusion was that the natives would be better 
off as Americans than as Hawaiians; the second, that 
Hawaiians were lazy and Japanese and Chinese were 
necessary ; the third, that cleanliness is next to godliness. 
How have these things worked out? The Hawaiians are 
in the ever-receding minority, the Japanese in the un- 
happy majority, and enjoyment of cleanliness has made 
most men forget that it is only next to something else. If 
the invited are coming to Honolulu expecting money- 
grabbers to turn to poetry and petty politicians to phi- 
losophy, they had better save their fares. If readers of 
the magazines expect to find a melting-pot in which all 
the ingredients are dancing about with their arms round 
one another *s neck, they had better remain at home. 
For the first and foremost effect of the tropics is to 



individualize things. In colder climes people huddle to- 
gether to conserve warmth; here they give one another 
plenty of space. Virtually one of the first things the 
new-comer does is to name and separate things from the 
mass. Every little thing has its personality. Plants 
grow in profusion, but each opens out to its utmost. One 
is much more inclined to ask what this flower is called 
in Honolulu than in America, for each stands out, and one 
stands out to each. Honolulu exudes moisture and fra- 
grance, stirring the passions as does the scent of a clean 
w*oman. It limbers up one's reasoning faculties and 
arouses one 's curiosity. 

On the street every Chinese and every Japanese comes 
in for his share of attention. One begins to single out 
types as it has never occurred to one to do in New York. 
In Honolulu all intermingle, flower in a sort of unity, but 
in the very mass they retain their natural variations. 
The white people are ordinarily good, they have mas- 
tered the technique of life sufficiently and play tolerably 
well to an uncritical audience. While the Hawaiian 
policeman in charge of the traffic stands out in bold relief 
because the dignity and importance of his position have 
stiffened the easy tendencies of his race, — he is self- 
conscious. Monarch of Confusion, arrayed in uniform, 
tall and with the manner of one always looking from 
beneath heavy eyebrows, it is said that he causes as much 
trouble as he allays. But that is mere prejudice. Who 
would dare ignore his arm and hand as he directs the 
passing vehicle? He fascinates. He commands. His 
austere silence is awe-inspiring. When he permits a 
driver to pass, there is a touch of the contemptuous in 
that relinquishment. Nor dare the driver turn the comer 
till, in like manner, this human indicator points the direc- 
tion for him. The finger follows now almost mockingly, 
until another car demands its attention, and it becomes 
threatening again. 

One hears of the all-inclusive South Seas as though 


it were something totally without variation. The aver- 
age tourist and scribe soon acquires the South-Sea style. 
But the more discriminating know full well that the ex- 
pressions which describe one of the South Sea islands fall 
flat when applied to another. ^^ Liquid sunshine'' is a 
term peculiarly Hawaiian. It would never apply to Fiji, 
for instance, for there the words *^ atmospheric secre- 
tion'' are more accurate. Hence, it is more than mere 
political chance that has made Hawaii so utterly different 
from the Philippines and the litter of South Seas. 

Honolulu is essentially an American city. The hun- 
dreds of motor-cars that dash in and about the streets 
do so just as they would in ^^ sunny California." The 
shops that attract the Americans are just like any in 
America, — clean, attractive, with their best foot forward. 
So meticulous, so spotless, so untouchable are they that 
the soul of the seeker nearly sickens for want of spice 
and flavor. To have to live on Honolulu's Main Street 
would be like drinking boiled water. One imagines that 
when the white men came thither, finding disease and un- 
cleanliness rampant, they determined that if they were to 
have nothing else they would have things clean. All new- 
comers to Oriental and primitive countries cling to that 
phase of civilization with something akin to terror. Gen- 
erally they get used to the dirt. They have not done so in 
Honolulu. It may be that mere distance has something to 
do with the different results, but certain it is that Manila, 
under American control just as is Honolulu, has none of 
these prim, not primitive, drawbacks. Twenty years of 
American rule have done little really to Americanize 
Manila, while they have utterly metamorphosed Hono- 

The man-made machine has now outlived the vitupera- 
tion of idealists. The man-made machine is running, 
and even the most romantic enjoys life the better for it. 
Clean hotels, swLomaing-pools within-doors, motor-cars 


that bring nature to man with the least loss of time and 
cost of fatigue, — these are things which only a fool would 
despise. But one longs for some show of the human 
touch, none the less, and cities that are built by machine 
processes are, despite all their virtues, not attractive. At 
least, they are not different enough from any other city 
in the modern world to justify a week's journey for the 
seeing. One hears that steamers and trains and air- 
planes are killing romance. That is so, but not because 
they in themselves conduce to satiety, but because they 
destroy indigenous creations and substitute importations 
and iron exactitude. Within the next few generations 
there will, indeed, be a South Seas, indistinguishable and 
without variety. Honolulu is an example. But Honolulu 
is not Hawaii! It is only a bit of decoration. So we 
shall leave this phase of Hawaii for consideration at a 
time when, having seen the things native to the Pacific, 
we reflect upon the meaning and purport of things alien. 
In Hawaii, we are told, — and without exaggeration, — 
one can stand in the full sunshine and watch the rain 
across the street. So, too, can one enjoy some of the 
material blessings of modem life, yet be within touch of 
nature incomparably exquisite. 

He was only a street-car conductor. Every day he 
journeyed from the heart of Honolulu, like a little blood 
corpuscle, through arteries of trade hardened by over- 
feeding, in a jerking, rocking old trolley car, to the very 
edge of Manoa Valley. His way lay along the fan- 
shaped plane behind the sea, and was lined with semi- 
palatial residences and Oahu College. Palms swayed 
in the breeze, and the night-blooming cereus slept in the 
glittering sunlight upon the stone walls. He was only 
a street-car conductor, furnished with his three spare 
meals a day and his bed, but he fed along the way on 


sweets that no street-car conductor in any other place in 
the world has by way of compensation. He was carved 
with wrinkles and his frail frame bent slightly forward, 
but his heart was young within him, and he acted like 
a plutocrat whose hobby was gardening and whose gar- 
dens were rich with the finest flowers on earth. The 
delight he took in the open country, barely the edge of 
which he reached so many times a day, was pathetic. 
When I asked him to let me off where I could wander on 
the open road, he beamed with pleasure and delight, and 
told me where I should have to go really to reach the 
wild. There may be other places in the world as beau- 
tiful and even more so, but no place ever had such a 
street-car conductor to recommend it. And no recom- 
mendation was ever more poetic and inspiring than this, 
— not even that of the Promotion Committee of Hono- 

And, strange to say, I have never been guided more 
honestly and more truthfully than when that street-car 
conductor advised me to go to Manoa Valley. I lived 
an eternity of joy in the few hours I spent there. I knew 
that not many miles beyond I should again be blocked 
by the sea. I could not see it because of the hills which 
spend three hundred and sixty-five days of every year 
dressing themselves in their very best and posing before 
the mirror of the sky. Not more than one or two natives 
passed me, nor did any other living creature appear. 
I could only romance with myself, refusing to be fooled 
by the talk about fair maidens with leis round their necks. 
I wa's certain that back home there were maidens whose 
beauty could not be equaled here ; whose soft, white skins 
and shapely forms were never excelled by tropical loveli- 
ness. But I was just as certain that there was nothing 
at home that compared to nature as it is lavished upon 
man here in Hawaii, and especially in Manoa Valley. 

We all have our compensations, and I have even shown 
preference for a return to the joys of genuine human 


beauty which the maker of worlds gave to America, 
and to leave to the mid-Pacific verdure and altitudes 
whose combination stirs my mind with passionate adora- 
tion to this very day. Still, I shall ever be grateful to 
that wizened street-car conductor for having suggested 
that I visit his little valley, which he himself can enter 
only after paying a penalty of sixteen journeys between 
Heaven and Honolulu every day, carrying the money- 
makers backward and forward. Perhaps he does not 
regard it as a penalty. Perhaps he feels himself fully 
compensated if one or two of his human parcels asks him 
where may be found the Open Road. 

Sullen and less concerned with emotional or spiritual 
values was the driver of the motor-bus whom we ex- 
humed one day from the heart of Honolulu's *^ foreign^' 
section. He evidently regarded nature on his route as too 
great a strain on his brakes, though he, too, must have 
felt that compensation was meted out to him manifold. 
For few people come to Hawaii and leave without con- 
tributing some small share to his support, as he is the 
shuttle between Honolulu and Kaneohe, and carries the 
thread of sheer joy through the eye of that wondrous 
needle, the Pali. 

At the Pali one senses the youth and vigor of our 
earth. Its peak, piercing the sky, seems on the point 
of emerging from the sea. It has raised its head above 
the waters and stands with an air of contempt for lone- 
liness, wrapped in mist, defying the winds. The world 
seems to fall away from it. It has triumphed. There is 
none of that withdrawing dignity of Fujiyama, the great 
man who looks on. The Pali imposes itself upon your 
consciousness with spectacular gusto, like the villain 
stamping his way into the very center of the stage and 
gazing roundabout over a protruding chin. 


The palm-trees bow solemnly before changeless winds, 
in the direction of Honolulu, which lies like an open fan 
at the foot of the valley near the sea. Color is in action 
everywhere, — spots of metallic green, of volcanic red, 
filtered through a screen of marine gray. Honolulu lies 
below to the rear; Kaneohe, beyond vast fields of pine- 
apple, before us; the sea, wide, open, limitless except 
for the reaches of the heavens, binding all. And then 
there is an upward, circular motion, — that of the rising 
mists drawn by the burning rays of the sun pressing 
landward and dashing themselves into the valley and 
falling in sheets of rain upon the earth. Wedged into 
a gully, as though caught and unable to break away, was 
a heavy cloud, — but it was being drained of every drop 
of moisture as a traveler held up by a gang of highway- 

This circular motion is found not only in inanimate na- 
ture. Once, at least, it has whirled the Hawaiians into 
tragedy. Here, history tells us, Kamehameha I (the fifth 
from the last of Hawaii's kings) hurled an army of native 
Oahu islanders over this bluff, back into the source of 
their being. Without quarter he pressed them on, over 
this pass ; while they, unwilling to yield to capture, chose 
gladly to dash themselves into the valley below. One is 
impressed by the striking interplay of emotion with sheer 
nature. The controlling element which directs both man 
and mountain seems the same. States and stars alike 
emerge, crash, and crumble. 

We rolled rapidly down into the valley past miles and 
miles of pineapple fields. Then we came, as it were, to 
the land's end. Nothing sheer now before us, nothing 
precipitate. A bit of freshness, of coolness, and an im- 
perceptible tapering off. The sea. 

Here at Kaneohe dwelt Arthur Mackaye, brother of 
the poet, whose name was vaguely known to me. He was 
slender, bearded, loosely clad, with open collar but not 
without consciousness and conventionality, — a conven- 

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tionality in accordance with prescribed notions of free- 
dom. Refreshing, cool as the atmosphere roundabout, 
distinct from the tropical lusciousness which is the gen- 
eral state of both men and nature in and about Honolulu, 
the personality of this lone man — this man who had flung 
everything aside — ^was a fit complement to the experience 
of Manoa Valley and the Pali. 

He conducted a small sight-seeing expedition on his 
own. The proprietor of a number of glass-bottomed 
launches, he took me over the quiet waters of the reefs. 
Throwing a black cloth over my head to shield me from 
the brilliant sky, I gazed down into the still world within 
the coral reefs. There lay unimaginable peace. What 
the Pali affords in panorama, the bay at Kaneohe offers 
in concentrated form. Pink-and-white forests twenty to 
forty feet deep, with immense cavities and ledges of 
delicate coral, fringe the shore. Fish of exquisite color 
move in and out of these giant chambers, as much at 
home in one as in another. Droll, sleepy sponges, like 
lumps of porous mud, lie flat against the reefs, waiting 
for something edible to come their way. Long green 
sea-worms extend and contract like the tentacles of an 
octopus in an insatiable search for food. 

An unusual silence hangs over the memory of that 
trip. I cannot recall that the unexpected companion I 
picked up in Honolulu said anything ; the lonely one who 
furnished the glass-bottomed boat certainly said noth- 
ing; the fish and sponges emphasized the tone of silence 
associated with the experience. But the Pali shrieked; 
it was the one imposing element that defied stillness. 
And below it is Honolulu, where silence is not to be 

For the Honolulu spirit is averse to silence. Honolulu 
is the most talkative city in the world. The people seem 
to talk with their eyes, with their gait, with their pos- 


tures. Night and day there stirs the confusion of people 
attending to one another's wants. One is in a ceaseless 
whirl of extraverted emotions. One cannot get away 
from it. The man who could be lonely in Honolulu would 
have to have his ears closed with cement. If New York 
were as talkative as Honolulu, not all of America's Main 
Streets together would drown it out. 

For Honolulu teems with good-fellowship. It is the 
religion of Honolulu to have a good time, and every one 
feels impelled before God and Patria to live up to its 
precepts. Everybody not only has a good time but talks 
having a good time. Not that there are no undercurrents 
of jealousy and gossip. By no means. The stranger is 
let into these with the same gusto that swirls him into 
pleasurable activities. It is a busy, whirligig world. 
Even the Y.M.C.A. spirit prevails without restraint. I 
had found the building of the association very conven- 
ient, and stopped there. That put the stamp of good- 
ness on me, but it did not exclude me from being drawn 
into a roisterous crowd that danced and drank and dis- 
sipated dollars, and heaved a sigh of relief that I did not 
preach to it. Its members were glad that I was just 
*^ stopping'' at the Y. They didn't see how I could do 
it, but that was my affair. If I still managed to be a good 
fellow, — well, I belonged to Honolulu. 

Charmian London had given me a note of introduction 
to a friend, Wright, of the ^'Bulletin." Wright was a 
bachelor and had a little bungalow across from the 
Waikiki Hotel on the beach. There we met one evening. 
It had every indication of the touch of a woman's hand. 
It was neatly furnished, cozy, restful. Two nonchalant 
young men came in, but after a delightful meal hurried 
away to some party. Wright and I were left. What 
should we do ? Something must be done. 

He ordered a touring-car. We whirled along under 
the open sky with a most disporting moon, and it seemed 
a pity we had none with us over whom to romanticize. 


Quietly, as though we were on a moving stage, the world 
slipped by, — palms, rice-fields ashimmer with silver 
light. Through luxuriant avenues, we passed up the road 
toward the Pali. Somewhere half-way we stopped. The 
Country Club. A few introductions, a moment's stay, 
and off we went again, this time to avoid the dance that 
was to take place there. Slipping along under the moon- 
light, we made our way back to Waikiki beach, dismissed 
the car, and took a table at Heinle 's which is now, I un- 
derstand, no more. 

But we had only jumped from the frying-pan into the 
fire. Others, bored with the club dance, had come to 
Heinie 's for more fling than dancing afforded. The hall 
was not crowded, so we were soon noticed. Mr. Wright 
was known. 

**They want us to come over," he said. ** Just excuse 
me a moment.'' 

Presently he returned. I had been specifically invited 
over with him. I accepted the invitation. Then, till there 
were no more minutes left of that day, we indulged in 
one continuous passing of wits and wets. Before half 
the evening was over, I was one of the crowd in genuine 
Honolulu fashion, and nothing was too personal for ex- 

But one there was in the group to whom all her indul- 
gences were obviously strange, though she seemed well 
practised. She was a romantic soul, and sought to coun- 
teract the teasing of the others. Her deprecation of 
whisky and soda was almost like poor Satan's hatred of 
hell. She vibrated to romantic memories like a cello G 
string. When she learned that I was westward bound, 
she fairly moaned with regret. 

^ ^ China ! — oh, dear, beloved China ! I would give any- 
thing in the world to get back there!" she exclaimed, 
and whatever notions I had of the Orient became exalted 
a thousandfold. But my own conviction is that she 
missed the cheap servants which Honolulu lacks. In 


other words, there were still not enough leisure and 
Bubbling Well Roads in Honolulu, nor the international 
atmosphere that is Shanghai's. But that is mere conjec- 
ture, and she was a romantic soul, and good to look at. 

But there were two others in the crowd who did not, 
in their hilarious spirits, whirl into my ken until some 
time afterward. Their speed was that of the comet's, 
and what was a plodding little planet like myself to do 
trying to move into their orbit? They were not native 
daughters of Honolulu; most of their lives they had 
spent in California, which in the light of Hawaii is a 
raw, chill land. There they carried on the drab existence 
of trying to earn a living, — just work and no play. But 
evidently they had never given up hope. They were tall, 
thin, fair, and jolly. They invested. They won. It was 
only two thousand dollars. They earned as much every 
year, no doubt, but it came to them in instalments. Now 
they had a real roll. Bang went the job! American in- 
dustry, all that depended on their being stable, honest 
producers, the smoothness of organization, was banished 
from their minds. Let the country go to the dogs ; they 
were heading for Honolulu for a good time. And when 
they got there they did not find the cupboard bare, nor 
excommunication for being jobless. 

For as long as two thousand dollars will last where 
money flows freely (and there are plenty of men ready 
to help stretch it with generous entertainment) these 
two escaped toilers from the American deep ran the 
gamut of Honolulu's conviviality. Night after night 
they whispered amorous compliments in the ears of the 
favorite dancers; day after day they flitted from party 
to party. I had met them just as their two thousand 
dollars were drawing to a close, but the only thing one 
could hear was regret that they could not possibly be 
extended. Honolulu was richer by two thousand; they 
were poorer to the extent of perpetual restlessness and 
rebellion against the necessity of holding down a job. 


Yet the ** Primer'' published by the Promotion Commit- 
tee tells US that Hawaii is "not a paradise for the job- 
less." These folk had no jobs, yet they certainly felt 
and acted and spoke as though they were in Paradise. 

Witness the arrivals and departures of steam- 
ers. The crowds gather as for a fete or a carnival. 
Bands play, serpentines stream over the ship's side, and 
turn its dull color into a careless rainbow. Hawaiian 
women sell leis, necklaces of the most luscious flowers 
whose scent is enough to empassion the most passionless. 
But as to jobs, — why, even the longshoremen seem to be 
celebrating and the steamer moves as by spirit-power. 

Visit Waikiki beach, and every day it is littered with 
people who enjoy the afternoon hours on the tireless 
breakers. Go to the hotels, and hardly an hour finds 
them deserted. The motor-cars are constantly carrying 
men and women about as though there was nothing in the 
wide world to do. Even those who are unlucky enough 
to have jobs attend to them in a leisurely sort of way. 
Yet these jobless people hold up their hands in warning 
to possible immigrants that there is no room for them, 
that *' Hawaii is not a paradise for the jobless." 

"Who, then, does the work of the island? It is obvious 
that it is being done. There is n't another island in the 
w^hole Pacific so modernized, so thoroughly equipped, so 
American in every detail, so progressive and well-to-do. 
It is the most sublimated of the sublime South Seas. 
One wonders how white men could have remained so 
energetic in the tropics, but one is not long left unin- 
formed. Honolulu is an example of a most ideal com- 
bination of peoples, the inventive, progressive, construc- 
tive white man with the energetic, persistent, plodding 
Oriental. Without the one or the other, Honolulu would 
not be what it is ; both have contributed to the welfare of 
the islands in ways immeasurable. 


It is not surprising, therefore, to find the Oriental ele- 
ments as much in evidence as the Occidental. One hardly 
knows where one begins and the other ends. As spacious 
and individualized as are the European sections, so the 
Asiatic are a perfect jumble of details. The buildings 
are drab, the streets are littered, the smells are insinu- 
ating, the sounds excruciating. 

A most painful noise upon an upper balcony of an 
overhanging Chinese building made me come to with a 
sudden clapping of my hands against my ears. As noise 
goes, it was perfect, — without theme or harmony. It 
could not have been more uncontrolled. What consola- 
tion was it that in China there was more of it ! Gratitude 
awakened in me for the limitations a wise joss had placed 
upon the capacities of the individual. Yet men are never 
satisfied. These Chinese weren't, and combined their 
energies. What one man couldn't accomplish, several 
could at least approach. So we had a band. I should 
certainly never have thought it possible, myself. 

However, they were trying to achieve something. It 
was neither gay nor mournful; nor was it sentimental. 
What purpose could it possibly have served? Surely 
they had no racial regrets or aspirations, they who 
played it! The bird sings to his mate, but what mate 
would listen to such tin-canning and howling, and not 

To me there was something charming in this shame- 
lessness of the Chinese, something childlike and naive. 
I had never realized the meaning of that little rhyme, 

I would not give the weakest of my song 
For all the boasted strength of all the strong 
If but the million weak ones of the world 
Would realize their number and their wrong. 

The thought is almost terrifying when applied to the 
teeming hordes of the world, whether of Asia, Europe, 
or the South Seas. If sheer numbers are any justifica- 
tion of supremacy, God had better take His old world 
back and reshape it nearer something rational. One 


becomes conscious of this welling up of the world in 
Hawaii. Not that the Chinese and the Japanese have n't 
the same right to life and to its fulfilment in accordance 
with latent instinct and ability, with all its special racial 
traits and customs, but one does n't just exactly see how 
numbers have anything to do with it. Yet here are the 
Chinese and Japanese slowly, quietly, persistently out- 
distancing the white by a process of doubling in num- 
bers, where mentality and ingenuity would doubtless fail. 

One hears much about the progress of the Orient. 
That is, white folk talk much about the way in which the 
East is taking to Western ways, and call that progress. 
One would not expect that sort of progress to proceed 
with any great velocity in the East itself, but it is only 
necessary to observe the ingrowing tendencies of life in 
Hawaii, however superficially, to see how foolishly opti- 
mistic is the expectation of such progress. For even in 
Hawaii, where everything has had to be built afresh, 
where everybody is an alien — ^with very few exceptions — 
and where the dominant element is European, the East 
is still the East, and the West the West. There is a 
slight overlapping, but not enough to make one lose 
one's way, — to make a white man walk into a Chinese 
restaurant and not know it. The fastidious white man 
whose curiosity gets the better of him, moves about the 
Chinese and Japanese districts fully conscious of his 
own shortcomings. He is less able to feel at home there 
than the Oriental on the main street; but why doesn't 
the Oriental build for himself a main street? 

I was abroad early one Sunday morning, headed for 
the Chinese section. Lost in thought, I went along, 
gazing on the ground. Had Charlie Chaplin's feet sud- 
denly come into my range of vision I should not have 
been more surprised than I was when two tiny shoes, 
hardly bigger than those of a large-sized doll, and with 
some of that stiff, automatic movement of the species 
mechanicus, dissipated my reflections. I raised my eyes 


slowly, as when waking, up, up, up, — hem of skirt, knees, 
w^aist-line, flat bosom, narrow shoulders, sallow face, and 
slit eyes ! A Chinese woman ! She was as big as a four- 
teen-year-old girl, but her feet were a third of their due 
proportion. How many thousands of years of natural 
selection went into the making of those little feet? Yet 
she was a rare enough exception to astound my ab- 
stracted mind. About her strolled hundreds of others of 
her race, who would have given much of life to possess 
those two little feet. 

Differences abound in Hawaii. The Chinese is no twin 
brother of the Japanese. In fact, there is probably as 
much relationship between the Hawaiian and the Japan- 
ese as there is between these two '^Oriental" races. The 
major part of the Japanese being Malay and the Poly- 
nesian Hawaiians having at least lived with the Malays 
some hundreds of years ago and infused some of their 
Caucasic ingredients into them, there is more of '^home- 
coming ^ ^ when ' ^ Jap ' ^ meets ' ' Poly, ' ' than when he meets 
^ ' Chink. '^ But notwithstanding proximity and propin- 
quity, over which diplomatic letter-writers labor hard, 
when the Chinese and the Japanese and the Hawaiian 
come together, the Hawaiian '^ vanishes like dewdrops 
by the roadside," the Chinese jogs along, and the Japan- 
ese runs motor-cars and raises children. The Japanese 
obtrudes himself much more upon the life of the com- 
munity than the other two races, but with no more re- 
linquishment of his own ways. He drives the cars and 
he drives white men to more activity than they really en- 
joy. And the Hawaiian sells necklaces of luscious flowers 
under the shaded porticoes of the buildings along the 

Aside from the adoption of our trousers and coat and 
hat, and a few other unimportant aspects of our civiliza- 
tion, the observer on the streets of Honolulu sees no 
mingling of races. The only outward sign of this mixing 
is the Salvation Army. There, large as life, with the 

During the day they were ashen and at night like rose dawn 

Eight hundred feet below it seethed 

Photo, Otto C. Giliii 


'hoto. Olio ('. Ciliiioro 



usual circular crowd about them, stood these soldiers of 
misfortune, praising the Lord in English. A row of un- 
limited Oriental offspring upon the curb; a few grown- 
ups on the walk; a converted Japanese who looked as 
though his Shinto father had disowned him; a self- 
conscious white boy who confessed to having been con- 
verted just recently; two indifferent-looking soldiers; a 
distrustful-looking leader and a hopeless-visaged white 
woman. Twenty feet away, a saloon. I wonder what the 
Salvation Army is going to do now that that object of 
attraction is no more. 

As far as Honolulu was concerned, it seemed to me that 
barter and trade were more intoxicating to the majority 
than was drink. The world everywhere about seemed 
a-litter with boxes and bales and shops and indulgences. 
How much of all the things exchanged, how many of the 
things for which these people toil endlessly, are worth 
while or essential, or even truly satisfying*? The dingy 
stores, their only worth their damp coolness; the hud- 
dling and the innocent dirt ; the inextricable mesh of little 
things to be done, — only the Chinese sage who posed for 
my camera in front of his wee stock of yarns was able to 
tell their value to life. His long, thin, pointed beard, 
his lack of vanity in accepting my interest in him, his 
genial smile and fatherly disinterestedness symbolized 
more than anything I saw in Honolulu the virtue and en- 
durance of race. Beside the eager, grasping Japanese 
and the rolling, expanding white men, he looked like the 
overtowering palm-tree that seems to grow out of the 
monkey-pod in the park. 

To a creature from another world, hovering over us 
in the unseen ether, watching us move about beneath the 
sea of air which is life to us, Honolulu would seem like 
a little glass aquarium. The human beings move about 
as though on the best of terms with one another. Some 


look more gorgeous than others, but from outward ap- 
pearances they are as innocent of ill intentions against 
one another as the aquatic creatures for which Hawaii is 
famous, out in the cool, moist aquarium at Waikiki. 

Kihikihi, the Hawaiians call one of them, and his 
friends the white folk have christened him Moorish Idol. 
I don't know what Kihikihi means, but as to his being 
an idol, I can't accept that for a moment, except in so far 
as he deserves to be idolized. For about him there is no 
more of that static, woodeny thing which idols generally 
are than there is about Pavlowa. Yet he is only a fish, 
and not so very large at that. He is moon-shaped, but 
rainbow-hued. He is perhaps three-quarters of an inch 
across the shoulders, but six inches up and down, and 
perhaps eight from nose to the ends of his two tails. 
And so he looks like a three-quarter moon. Soft, vertical 
bands of black, white, and egg-yellow run into one an- 
other on both sides, and a long white plume trails down- 
ward in a semicircle. He is the last word in form, trans- 
lucent harmony of color and of motion. He moves about 
with rhythmic dignity and grace. At times his eyes 
bulge with an eagerness and self-importance as though 
the world depended on him for its security. Though he 
is constantly searching for food, he does not seem ava- 
ricious; and while he admits his importance, he is not 

Kihikihi has a rival in Nainai, who has been given an 
alias, — Surgeon Fish, light brown with an orange band 
on his sides. Nainai is heavier than Kihikihi, more 
plump. His color, too, is heavier and therefore seems 
more restrained. It is richer and hence stimulates envy 
and desire. 

Lauwiliwili Unkunukuoeoe has no aliases, thank you, 
but he has a snout on which his Hawaiian name could 
be stamped in fourteen-point type and still leave room 
for half a dozen aliases. Only a water-creature could 
possess such a title as this and keep from dragging 


it in the mud. Knowing that he would be called by that 
appellation in life, his Creator must have compensated 
him with plenty of snout. 

But it is better to have one long snout than eight. And 
though no one would give preference to any devil-fish, 
this long-snouted creature is the rival by an inverse ratio 
of that eight-snouted glutton. The octopus, the devil of 
the deep, is an insult to fishdom. The Moorish Idol and 
this Medusa-like monster in the same aquarium make a 
worse combination than Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. This 
ugly, flabby, boneless body, just thick skin and muscle, 
with a large bag for a head, — eight sea-worms extending 
and contracting in an insatiable search for food is the 
paramount example of gross materialism. If only the 
high cost of living would drive to suicide this beast with 
hundreds of mouths to feed, the world might be rid of a 
perfidious-looking monster. But his looks do him great 
injustice, and were the Hawaiian variety — which is, after 
all, only squid — to disappear, the natives would be de- 
prived of one of their chief delicacies. At the markets — 
that half-way house between aquaria and museums — nu- 
merous dried octopus, like moth-eaten skins, lie about 
waiting for the housewife's art to camouflage them. But 
I shall have something to say elsewhere about markets 
and museums, and now shall turn, for a moment, to more 
startling wonders still. 

An artist is delighted if he finds a study with a perfect 
hand or a beautiful neck ; or, in nature, if a simple charm 
is left undisturbed by the confusion of human creation. 
Yet at night as our ship passed the island of Maui, it 
seemed to me that all the sweet simplicities that make 
life worth while had been assembled here in the begin- 
ning of the world and left untouched. The moon rose on 
the peak of the cone-shaped mountain, and for a time 


stood set, like a moonstone in a ring. The pyramid of 
night-blue earth was necklaced in street lights, which 
stretched their frilled reflections across the surface of 
the sea ; and just back of it all lay the crater of Haleakala, 
the House of the Sun. 

At sunrise next morning we were docked at Hilo on 
the island of Hawaii, two hundred miles from Honolulu. 
There was nothing here impressive to me, despite the 
waterfalls. For two and a half hours we drove by motor 
over the turtle-back surface of Hawaii toward Kilauea. 
Tree-ferns, palms, and plantations stretched in unending 
recession far and wide. A sense of mystery and awe 
crept slowly over me as we neared the region of the vol- 
cano. At eleven we arrived at the Volcano House. 

Yet, in a mood of strange indifference I gazed across 
the five miles of flat, dark-brown frozen lava which is the 
roof of the crater. Ash-colored fumes rose from the field 
of fissures, like smoke from an underground village. 
Sullen, sallow vapors, these. Sulphur banks, tree molds 
cast in frozen lava, empty holes ! Nothing within left to 
rot, but fringed with forests and brush, sulphur-stained 
or rooted in frozen lava. Everywhere promise of vol- 
canic fury, prophecy of the end of the world. 

The road lay like a border round the rim of an antique 
bowl which had been baked, cracked, chipped, but shaped 
to a usefulness that is beauty. All day long we waited, 
watching the clouds of gray fumes rise steadily, silently, 
and with a sad disinterestedness out of the mouth of the 

Frozen, the lava was the great bed of assurance, a 
rock of fearlessness. It seemed to say to the volcano: 
*^I can be indifferent. Down there, deep down, is your 
limitation. Rise out of the pit and you become, like me, 
congealed. There, down in that deep, is your only hope 
of life. This great field of lifeless lava is proof of your 
effort to reach beyond your sphere. So why fear?" And 
there was no fear. 












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1- .^^: ■ 

o tf 




As night came on the gray fumes began to flush pink 
with the reflection of the heart of the crater. We set out 
in cars for the edge. Extinct craters yawned on every 
side, their walls deep and upright. Some were over- 
grown with green young trees, but as we came nearer 
to the living crater, life ceased. Great rolls of cloud- 
fumes rose from the gulch to wander away in silence. 
What a strange journey to take! From out a boiling 
pit where place is paid for by furious fighting, where 
pressure is father of fountains of boiling rock, out from 
struggle and howling fury, these gases rose into the 
world of living matter, into the world of wind and water. 
Out of the pit of destruction into the air, never ceasing, 
always stirring down there, rising to where life to us is 
death to it. The lava, seething, red, shoots aimlessly 
upward, only to quell its own futile striving in intermit- 
tent exhaustion. 

We stood within a foot of the edge. Eight hundred 
feet below us the lava roared and spit. In the night, the 
entire volcano turned a pink glow, and before us lay 
three-quarters of a mile of Inferno come true. The red 
liquid heaves and hisses. Some of it shoots fully fifty 
feet into the air; some is still-bom and forms a pillar of 
black stone in the midst of molten lava. From the other 
corner a steady stream of lava issues into the main pool, 
and the whole thumps and thuds and sputters and spouts, 
restless, toiling eternally. 

On our way to the crater we were talkative. We joked, 
burnt paper over the cracks, discussed volcanic action, 
and expressed opinions about death and the probability 
of animal consciousness after death. But as we turned 
away from the pit we fell silent. It was as though we had 
looked into the unknown and had seen that which was not 
meant for man to see. And the clouds of fumes contin- 
ued to issue calmly, unperturbed, with a dreadful per- 

Just as our oar groped its way through the mists to 


the bend in the road, a Japanese stepped before us with 
his hands outstretched. ^'Help!'' he shouted. *^Man 
killed. '' We rushed to his assistance and found that a 
party of Japanese in a Ford had run off the road and 
dropped into a shallow crater. Down on the frozen bed 
below huddled a group of men, women, and children, 
terrified. As we crawled down we found one Japanese 
sitting with the body of his dead companion in his arms, 
pressing his hot face against the cold cheek of his com- 
rade. A chill drizzle swept down into the dark pit. It 
was a scene to horrify a stoic. To the wretched group 
our coming was a comfort the richness of which one could 
no more describe than one could the torture of lava in 
that pit over yonder. 

Japanese are said to be fatalists. They hover about 
Kilauea year in and year out. One man sat with a baby 
in his arms, his feet dangling over the volcano. Play- 
fully he pretended to toss the child in, and it accepted all 
as play. The same confidence the dead man had had in 
the driver whose carelessness had overturned the car. 
And now it seemed that his body belonged in the larger 
pit at which he had marveled not more than half an hour 

As I look back into the pit of memory where the molten 
material, experience, has its ebb and flow, I can still see 
the seething of rock within a cup of stone, the boiling 
of nature within its own bosom. Where can one draw 
the line between experience past and present? Wherever 
I am, the shooting of that fountain of lava is as real as 
it was to me then; nor can conglomerate noises drown 
out the sound of lava pouring back into lava, of under- 
mined rock projections crashing with a hissing sound 
back upon themselves. It is to me like the sound of 
voices when King Kamehameha I forced the natives of 
the island of Oahu over the Pali, and the group of terri- 
fied Japanese were like the fish in the coral caves at 


Kaneohe when aware of the approach of a fish that feeds 
upon them. 

Yet there is a sound rising clear in memory, perhaps 
more wonderful even than the shrieking of tortured 
human beings or the hissing of molten lava. As I stood 
upon the rim of Halemaumau there arose the vision of 
Kapiolani, the Hawaiian girl who, defying superstition, 
ventured down into the jaws of the crater and by her 
courage exorcised Kilauea of its devils. What in all 
the world is more wonderful than frailty imbued with 
passion mothering achievement? Kapiolani may be 
called Hawaii's Joan of Arc. Unable to measure her 
strength with men, she defied their gods. A world of 
prejudice, all the world to her, stood between her and 
Kilauea. Courage triumphant had conquered fear. In 
defiance of her clan and of her own terror, she was the 
first native to approach the crater, and in that she made 
herself the equal of Kilauea. As she cast away the 
Hawaiian idols, herself emerged an idol. 


FIJI is to the Pacific what the eye is to the needle. 
Swift as are the vessels which thread the largest 
ocean on earth, travelers who do more than pass through 
Fiji on their way between America and the Antipodes 
are few. Yet the years have woven more than a mere 
patchwork of romance round these islands. In climate 
they are considered the most healthful of the South Sea 
groups, though socially and from the point of view of 
our civilization they do not occupy the same place in our 
sentiments as do Samoa, Tahiti, the Marquesas, and the 
Sandwich Islands. Largely, I suppose, because of the 
ethnological accident that planted there a race of people 
that is farther from Europeans than the Polynesians. 
The Fijians are Melanesians, a negroid people said by 
some to be a ^ ^ sub-branch ' ' of the Polynesians. They 
have been slightly mixed through their contact with the 
Tongans and the Samoans, but they are not definitely 
related to either and full mixture is unlikely. 

A century ago a number of Australian convicts escaped 
to Fiji. They brought to these savage cannibal island- 
ers all the viciousness and arrogance of their type, and 
imposed themselves upon the primitive natives. The 
effect was not conducive of the best relations between 
white people and natives, nor did it have an elevating in- 
fluence upon the latter. However, despite their canni- 
balism and their unwillingness to yield to the influence 
of our benign civilization, the Fijians are a people in 
many ways superior to both the Polynesians east of them 



and the true Melanesians or Papuans to the west. They 
are more moral ; they are cleanly ; their women occupy a 
better position in relation to their men ; and in character 
and skill they are superior to their neighbors. I was 
impressed with this dignity of the Fijians, conscious and 
unconscious, from the time I first laid eyes on them. I 
felt that, notwithstanding all that was said about them, 
here was a people that stood aloof from mere imitation. 

Yet such is the nature of reputation that when I an- 
nounced my intention of breaking my journey from Hono- 
lulu to Australia at Fiji, my fellow-passengers were in- 
clined to commiserate with me. They wondered how one 
with no special purposes — that is, without a job — could 
risk cutting loose from his iron moorings in these savage 
isles. Had they not read in their school geographies of 
jungles and savages all mixed and wild, with mocking 
natives grinning at you from behind bamboo-trees, living 
expectations of a juicy dinner? They warned me about 
dengue fever; they extolled the virtues of the Fijian 
maidens, and exaggerated the vices of the Fijian men. 
The word * ' cannibals ' ' howled round my head as the im- 
personal wind had howled round the masts of the steamer 
one night. But the adventurer soon learns that there is 
none so unknowing as the average globe-trotters (the 
people who have been there) ; so he listens politely and 
goes his own way. 

When, therefore, I got the first real whiff of tropical 
sweetness, mixed though it was with copra and mold, all 
other considerations vanished. From the cool heights 
the hills looked down in pity upon the little village of 
Suva as it lay prostrate beneath the sun. If there was 
any movement to be seen, it was upon the lapping waters 
ot the harbor, where numerous boats swarmed with black- 
bodied, glossy-skinned natives in that universal pursuit 
of life and happiness. As the Niagara sidled up to the 
pier and made fast her hawsers, these black fellows 
rushed upon her decks and into the holds like so many 


ants, and what had till then been inanimate became as 
though possessed. 


I had been under the impression that the natives were 
all lazy, but the manner of their handling of cargo soon 
dissipated that notion. Further to discredit the rumor- 
mongers, three Fijians staged an attempt to lead a don- 
key ashore which would have shamed the most enthusias- 
tic believer in the practice of counting ten before getting 
angry and trying three times before giving up. The 
Fijian is as indifferent to big as to little tasks, and seems 
to be alone, of all the dwellers in the tropics, in this 
apathetic attitude toward life. There is none in all the 
world more lazy, indolent, and do-nothing than the white 
man. As soon as he comes within sight of a native any- 
where, that native does his labor for him ; you may count 
on it. 

So it was that with fear and trembling I announced to 
the stewards that I had a steamer trunk which I wanted 
ashore with me. They grunted and growled as the two 
of them struggled with it along the gang-plank and 
dropped it as Atlas might have been expected to drop 
the earth, and stood there with a contemptuous look of 
expectation. I took out two half-dollars and handed one 
to each. The sneer that formed under their noses was 
well practised, I could see, and they took great pains to 
inform me that they were no niggers, they would not 
take the trunk another foot. There it was. I was lost, 
scorned, and humiliated. Why did I have so much worldly 
goods to worry about? Just then a portly Fijian 
stepped up. Beside him I felt puny, doubly humble now. 
Before I had time to decide whether or not he was going 
to pick me up by the nape of the neck and carry me off to 
a feast, he took my trunk instead. Though it weighed 
fully a hundred and sixty-five pounds, it rose to his shoul- 
ders — up there a foot and a half above me — and the giant 
strode along the pier with as little concern as though it 


were empty. The two stewards stood looking on with 
an air of superiority typical of the white men among 

I cannot say that mere brawn ever entitles any man to 
rank, and that the white generally substitutes brain for 
brawn is obvious. But I failed to see wherein they jus- 
tified their conceit, for to men of their type the fist is 
still the symbol of their ideal, as it is to the majority 
of white men. And as I came away from the ship again 
that afternoon I found a young steward, a mere lad, 
standing in a corner crying, his cheek swollen and red. 
I asked him what happened. ^'The steward hit me,*' 
he said, trying to restrain himself from crying. '^I 
thought I was through and went for my supper so as 
to get ashore a bit. He came up and asked me what I 
was doing. I told him, and he struck me with his fist.*' 
Yet the stewards thought themselves too good to do any 
labor with black men about. No ship in a tropical port 
is manned by the sailors ; there they take a vacation, as 
it were. 

From the customs shed to my hotel the selfsame Fijian 
carried my trunk majestically. I felt hopeful that for 
a time at least I should see the last of stewards and their 
ilk. But before I was two days in Suva I learned that 
shore stewards are often not any better, and was happy 
to get farther inland away from the port for the short 
time I could afford to spend in the tropics. 

Meanwhile, some of the younger of my fellow-passen- 
gers came on shore and began doing the rounds, into 
which they inveigled me. From one store to the other 
we went, examining the moldy, withered, incomplete 
stocks of the traders. Magazines stained brown with 
age, cheap paper-covered novels, native strings of beads 
formed part of the stock in trade. We soon exhausted 

At the comer of the right angle made by Victoria 
Parade and the pier stood a Victoria coach. A horse 


slept on three legs, in front of it, and a Hindu sat upon 
the seat like a hump on an elongated camel. We roused 
them from their dozing and began to bargain for their 
hire. Six of us climbed into the coach and slowly, as 
though it were fastened to the ground, the horse began to 
move, followed by the driver, the carriage, and the six 
of us. For an hour we continued in the direction in 
which the three had been standing, along the beach, up a 
little knoll, past corrugated-iron-roofed shacks, and down 
into Suva again ; the horse stopped with the carriage be- 
hind him in exactly the same position in which we had 
found them, and driver and beast went to sleep again. 

Much is heard these days about the effects of the rail- 
road and the steamer and the wireless telegraph on the 
unity of the world, but to those travelers and that Hindu 
and to the Fijians whom we passed en route, not even the 
insertion of our six shillings in the driver's pocket has, 
I am sure, as much as left the faintest impression on any 
of us except myself. And on me it has left the impres- 
sion of the utter inconsequence of most traveling. 

Thus Suva, the eye of Fiji and of the needle of the 
Pacific, is threaded, but there is nothing to sew. The 
unexpected never happens. There are no poets or phi- 
losophers, no theaters or cabarets in Suva, as far as mere 
eye can see, — nothing but smell of mold and copra (cocoa- 
nut oil). 

In Suva one cannot long remain alert. The sun 
is stupefying. The person just arrived finds himself 
stifled by the sharp smells all about him as though the 
air were poisoned with too much life. The shaggy green 
hills, rugged and wild in the extreme, show even at a 
distance the struggle between life and death which mo- 
ment by moment takes place. Luxuriant as on the morn- 
ing of creation, the vegetation seems to be rotting as after 
a period of death. In Suva everything smells damp and 
moldy. You cannot get away from it. The stores you 
buy in, the bed you sleep in, the room you eat in, — all 


have the same odor. The books in the little library are 
eaten full of holes through which the flat bookworms 
wander as by right of eminent domain. Offensive to the 
uninitiated is the smell of copra. The swarms of Fijians 
who attack the cargo smell of it and glisten with it. 
The boats smell of it and the air is heavy with it. If 
copra and mold could be banished from the islands, the 
impression of loveliness which is the essence of the South 
Seas would remain untainted. Yet to-day, let me but 
get a whiff of cocoanut-oil from a drug store and I am 
immediately transported to the South Seas and my being 
goes a-wandering. 

I seldom dream, but at the moment of waking in 
strange surroundings after an unusual run of events my 
mind rehearses as in a dream the experiences gained dur- 
ing consciousness. When the knuckles of the Fijian — 
and he has knuckles — sounded on my door at seven to an- 
nounce my morning tea, I woke with a sense of heavi- 
ness, as though submerged in a world from which I could 
never again escape. At seven-fifteen another Fijian 
came for my laundry; at seven-thirty a third came for 
my shoes. Seeing that it was useless to remain in bed 
longer, I got up. I was not many minutes on the street 
before I realized the urgency in those several early visits. 
Daylight-saving is an absolute necessity in the tropics, 
for by eight or nine one has to endure our noonday sun, 
and unless something is accomplished before that time 
one must perforce wait till late afternoon for another 
opportunity. To keep an ordinary coat on an ordinary 
back in Suva is like trying to live in a fireless cooker 
while angry. Even in the shade one is grateful for white 
duck instead of woolens, so before long I had acquired 
an Irish poplin coat. Yet Fiji is one of the most health- 
ful of the South Sea islands. 

Owing to the heat, most likely — ^to give the white devils 


their due — procrastination is the order of life. *^ Every- 
thing here is ^malua/ '' explained the manager of *'The 
Fiji Times ' ' to me. * ' No matter what you want or whom 
you ask for it, Vait a bit' will be the process." And 
he forthwith demonstrated, quite unconsciously, that he 
knew whereof he spoke. I wanted to get some informa- 
tion about the interior which he might just as easily have 
given me off-hand, but he asked me to wait a bit. I 
did. He left his office, walked all the way up the street 
with me to show me a photographer's place where I 
should be able to get what I was after, and stood about 
with me waiting for the photographer to make up his 
mind whether he had the time to see me or not. There 's 
no use rushing anybody. The authorities have been sev- 
eral years trying to get one of the oif streets of Suva 
paved. It has been '^worked on,'' but the task, turned to 
every now and then for half an hour, requires numerous 
rest periods. 

In Fiji, every one moves adagio. The white man looks 
on and commands; the Indian coolie slinks about and 
slaves ; the Fijian works on occasion but generally passes 
tasks by with sporty indifference. Yet there is no ab- 
sence of life. Beginning with the noise and confusion 
at the pier, there is a steady stream of individuals on 
whom shadows are lost, though they have nothing on 
them but their skins and their sulus. The Fijian idles, 
allows the Indian to work, happy to be left alone, happy 
if he can add a shilling to his possessions, — an old vest, 
a torn pair of trousers of any shape, an old coat, or a 
stiff-bosomed shirt sans coat or vest or trousers. Tall, 
mighty, and picturesque, his coiffure the pride of his life, 
he watches with a confidence well suited to his origin and 
his race the changes going on about him. 

Thus, while his island's fruits are being crated and 
carted off by the ship-load for foreign consumption, he 
helps in the process for the mere privilege of subsidized 
loafing. All the fun he gets out of trade in the tropics 


seems to be the opportunity of swearing at his fellows 
in fiji-ized versions of curses taught him by the white 
man. Or he stands erect on the flat punt as it comes in 
from regions unknown, bearing bananas green from the 
tree, the very picture of ease and contentment. Yet one 
little tug with foreign impertinence tows half a dozen 
punts, depriving him even of this element of romance 
in his life. 

Still, there is nothing sullen in his make-up. A dozen 
mummy-apples — better than bread to him — tied together 
with a string, suffice to make his primitive heart glad. 
Primitive these people are; their instincts, never led 
astray very far by such frills and trappings as keep us 
jogging along are none the less human. Unfold your 
camera and suggest taking a picture of any one of 
them and forthwith he straightens up, transforms his 
features, and adjusts his loin-cloth; nor will he forget 
to brush his hair with his hand. What a strange thing 
is this instinct in human nature anywhere in the world 
which substitutes so much starch for a slouch the moment 
one sees a one-eyed box pointing in his direction ! None 
ever hoped to see a print of himself, but all posed as 
though the click of that little shutter were the recipe for 
perpetual youth. 

The motive is not always one of vanity. Generally, 
at the sound of the shutter, a hand shoots out in antici- 
pation of reward. In the tropics it is no little task to 
bring oneself together so suddenly, and the effort should 
be fully compensated. The expenditure of energy in- 
volved in posing is worthy of remuneration. Neverthe- 
less, vanity is inherent in this response. The Fijian is 
a handsome creature, and he knows it. He knows how to 
make his hair the envy of the world. ^ ^ Permanent-wave ' ' 
establishments would go out of business here in America 
if some skilled Fijian could endure our climate. He 
would give such permanence to blondes and brunettes 
as would cost only twenty-five cents and would really 


last. He would not plaster the hair down and cover it 
with a net against the least ruffle of the wind. When he 
got through with it it would stand straight up in th^ 
air, four to six inches long, and would serve as an insu- 
lator against the burning rays of the sun unrivaled any- 
where in the world. While I squinted and slunk in the 
shade, the native chose the open highway. Give him a 
cluster of breadfruit to carry and a bank messenger 
with a bag of bullion could not seem more important. 

The Fijians, notwithstanding the fact that they take 
less to the sentimental in our civilization than the Sa- 
moans, are a fine race. Their softness of nature is a sur- 
prising inversion of their former ferocity. What one 
sees of them in Suva helps to fortify one in this conclu- 
sion ; a visit farther inland leaves not a shadow of doubt. 
And pretty as the harbor is, it is as nothing compared 
with the loveliness of river and hills in the interior. 

I was making my way to the pier in search of the launch 
that would take me up the Rewa River, when a giant 
Fijian approached me. He spoke English as few foreign 
to the tongue can speak it. A coat, a watch, and a cane 
— a lordly biped — he did not hesitate to refer to his vir- 
tues proudly. He answered my unspoken question as 
to his inches by assuring me he was six feet three in 
his stocking feet (he wore no stockings) and was forty- 
five years old. For a few minutes we chatted amicably 
about Fiji and its places of interest. There was never 
a smug reference to anything even suggestive of the las- 
civious — as would have been the case with a guide in 
Japan, or Europe — yet he cordially offered to conduct 
and protect me through Fijiland. Had I had a billion 
dollars in gold upon me I felt that I might have put 
myself in his care anywhere in the world. But I was 
already engaged to go up the Rewa River and could not 
hire him. Cordially and generously, as an old friend 
might have done, he told me what to look for and bid 
me have a good time. 


I took the launch which makes daily trips up the Rewa. 
The little vessel was black with natives — outside, inside, 
everywhere, streaming over to the pier. It was owned 
and operated by an Englishman named Message. Even 
in the traffic on this river combination threatens indi- 
vidual enterprise. *'The company has several launches. 
It runs them on schedule time, stopping only at special 
stations, regardless of the convenience to the Fijians. 
It is trying to force me out of business, '^ said Mr. Mes- 
sage, a look of troubled defiance in his face. *^But I am 
just as determined to beat if 

So he operates his launch to suit the natives, winning 
their good-will and patronage. It was interesting to see 
how his method worked. No better lesson in the instinc- 
tive tendency toward cooperation and mutual aid could 
be found. He had no white assistant, but every Fijian 
who could find room on the launch constituted himself a 
longshoreman. They enjoyed playing with the launch. 
They helped in the work of loading and unloading one 
another's petty cargo, such as kerosene, corrugated iron 
for roofing (which is everywhere replacing thatch), and 
odd sticks of wood. And the jollity that electrified them 
was a delightful commentary on this one white man's 

Delight rides at a spirited pace on this river Rewa. 
The banks are seldom more than a couple of feet above 
the water. The launch makes straight for the shore 
wherever a Fijian recognizes his hut, and he scrambles 
ofif as best he can. Here and there round the bends na- 
tives in takias (somewhat like outrigger canoes with mat 
sails, now seldom used), punts, or rowboats slip by in 
the twilight. 

The sun had set by the time all the little stops had been 
made between Suva and Davuilevu, the last stopping- 
place. Each man, as he stepped from this little float 


of modernism, clambered up the bank and disappeared 
amid the sugar-cane. What a world of romance and 
change he took into the dark-brown hut he calls his own ! 
What news of the world must he not have brought back 
with him! A commuter, he had probably gone in by 
that morning's launch, in which case he spent three full 
hours in ^'toil" or in the purchase of a sheet of corru- 
gated iron or a tin of oil. He may have helped himself 
to a shirt from somebody's clothes-line in the spare time 
left him. One thing was certain, there were no choco- 
lates in his pockets, for he had no pockets, and I saw no 
young woman holding a baby in her arms for daddy to 

Yet even from a distance one recognized something of 
family affection. To enter and examine closely would 
perhaps have made a difference in my impressions. I 
was content with these hazy pictures, to see these dark- 
skinned people merge with their brown-thatched huts cur- 
tained by shadows within the cane-fields. When night 
came on all was dissolved in shadow, and voices in song 
rose on the cool air. 

The Rewa River runs between two antagonistic insti- 
tutions. At Davuilevu (the Great Conch-Shell) there is 
a mission station on one side and a sugar-mill on the 
other. Both are deeply affecting the character and en- 
vironment of the Fijians, yet the contrast in the results 
is too obvious to be overlooked by even the most casual 

As I stepped off the boat a young New Zealander 
whose cousin had come down with us on the Niagara 
and whom I had met the day of our arrival in Suva, 
came out of a building across the road. He was con- 
ducting a class in carpentry composed of young Fijian 
students of the mission. They were so absorbed in their 
work that they barely noticed me, and the atmosphere 


of sober earnestness about the place was thrilling. From 
time out of mind the Fijians have been good carpenters, 
the craft being passed down from generation to genera- 
tion within a special caste. Their shipbuilding has always 
been superior to that of their neighbors, the Tongans. 
It was not to be wondered at, therefore, that the main 
department here should be that of wood-turning, and 
isome of the work the students were doing at the time 
was exceptionally fine. 

The buildings of the mission had all been constructed 
with native labor under the direction of the missionaries. 
They were simply but firmly built, the absence of archi- 
tectural richness being due fully as much to the spirit 
of the missionaries as to the lack of decorativeness in 
the character of the natives. 

However, there was something to be found at the mis- 
sion which was harshly lacking at the sugar-mill. The 
students moved about in a leisurely manner, cleanly and 
thoughtful; whereas across the river not only were the 
buildings of the very crudest possible, but the Hindus 
and the Fijians roamed around like sullen, hungry curs 
always expecting a kick. Those who were not sullen, 
were obviously tired, spiritless, and repressed. Their 
huts were set close to one another in rows, whereas the 
mission buildings range over the hills. The crowding 
at the mill, upon such vast open spaces, gave the little 
village all the faults of a tenement district. Racial clan- 
nishness seems to require even closer touch where space 
is wide. The very expanse of the world seems to intensify 
the fear of loneliness, so men huddle closer to sense 
somewhat of the gregarious dehghts of over-populated 
India. But there is also the squeezing of plantation- 
owners here at fault, and the total disregard of the needs 
of individual employees. 

The mill is worked day and night, in season, but it is 
at night that one's reactions to it are most impressive. 
The street lamps, assisted by a dim glow from within 


the shacks, the monotonous invocation of prayer by 
Indians squatting before the wide-open doors, the tiny 
kava ^^ saloons," and the great, giant, grinding, grating 
sugar-mills crushing the juice out of the cane and pre- 
cipitating it (after a chain of processes) in white dust 
for sweetening the world, are something never to be for- 
gotten. The deep, pulsating breath of the mill sounded 
like the snore of a sleeping monster. Yet that monstrous 
mill never sleeps. 

The sound did not cease, but rather, became more pro- 
nounced after I returned that night. Deeply imprinted 
on my memory was the figure of a sullen-looking Indian 
at his post — small, wiry, persistent — with the whirring of 
machinery all about him, the steaming vats, the broken 
sticks of cane being crunched in the maw of the machine. 
The toilers sometimes dozed at their tasks. I was told 
that once an Indian fell into one of the vats in a moment 
of dizzy slumber. The cynical informer insisted that the 
management would not even stop the process of turning 
cane into sugar, and that into the tea-cups of the world 
was mixed the substance of that man. My reflection was 
along different lines, — that into the sweets of the world 
we were constantly mixing the souls of men. 

But unfortunately those who look after the souls of 
these men at the mission are apt to forget that they have 
bodies, too, and that body is the materialization of desire. 
There is something w^onderful, indeed, in the sight of 
men known to have been of the most ferocious of human 
creatures going about their daily affairs in an attitude 
of great reverence to the things of life. And reverence 
added to the extreme shyness of the Fijian is writ large 
in the manner of every native across the way from the 
mill. Sometimes I felt that there was altogether too 
much restraint, too much checking of wholesome and 

li II 

The unexpected happened — the cab moved 


My Fijian guides 

On board the launch going up the Rewa River, with shy Fijians ail about 


healthy impulses among them for it to be true reverence. 
That was especially marked on Sunday morning, when 
from all the corners of the mission fields gathered the 
sturdy black men in the center of the grounds where 
stood the little church. 

They were a sight to behold, altogether too seriously 
concerned to be amusing, and to the unbiased the acme 
of gentleness. There they were — muscular, huge, erect, 
and black, their bushy crops of coarse hair adding six 
inches to their heads; dressed in sulus neatly tucked 
away, and stiff-bosomed white shirts over their bodies. 
Starched white shirts in the tropics 1 And the Bible in 
Fijian in their hands. In absolute silence they made 
their way into the church, the shuffle of their unshod feet 
adding intensity to that silence. When they raised their 
voices in the hymns it seemed to me that nothing more 
sincere had ever been sung in life. But then something 
occurred which made me wonder. 

From the Solomon Islands had come on furlough the 
Kev. Mr. Ryecroft and his delicate wife. He was a man 
of very gentle bearing and great fervor. He and 
his plucky wife had suffered much for their convictions. 
All men who really believe anything suffer. The mis- 
sionary is as much anathema in his field as the anarchist 
is in America, and is generally as violent an agent for 
the disruption of custom. Mr. Eyecroft rose to speak 
before the congregation. He spoke in English and was 
interpreted by the missionary in charge. He told of 
his trials in the Solomon Islands, and appealed for Fijian 
missionaries to go back with him and save the blood- 
thirsty Solomons. I watched the faces of these converted 
Fijians. Some of them were intent upon the speaker, 
repugnance at the cruelties rehearsed coming over them 
as at something of which they were more afraid as a 
possible revival in themselves than as an objective dan- 
ger. Some, however, fell fast asleep, their languid heads 
drooping to one side. I am no mind-reader, nor is my 


observation to be taken for more than mere guess-work, 
but I felt that there were two conflicting thoughts in the 
minds of the listeners, for while Mr. Eyecroft was urging 
them to come arrest brutality in the Solomons there were 
other recruiters at work in Fiji for service in Europe. 
While one told that the savage Solomon Islanders 
swooped down upon the missionary compound and left 
sixteen dead behind them, in Europe they were leaving 
a thousand times as many every day, worse than dead. 
To whom were they to listen! 

That afternoon Mr. Waterhouse, one of the mission- 
aries, asked me to give the young men a little talk on 
my travels, he to interpret for me. I asked him what he 
would like to have me tell them and he urged me to advise 
them not to give up their lands. I complied, pointing 
out to them how quickly they would go under as a race 
if they did so. The response was more than compen- 

The outlook is all the more reassuring when you sit 
of an evening as I did in the large, carefully woven native 
house, elliptical in shape, with thatched roof and soft- 
matted floors, which serves as a sort of night school for 
little tots. The children, who were then rehearsing 
some dances for the coming festival, sat on tiers of 
benches so built that one child's feet were on a level 
with the shoulders of the one in front. Like a palisade 
of stars their bright eyes glistened with the reflections 
of the light from the kerosene lamps hanging on wires 
from the rafters. Lolohea Ratu, a girl of twenty, edu- 
cated in Sydney, Australia, spoke to them in a plaintive, 
modulated voice, soft and low. All Fijian voices are 
sad, but hers was slightly sadder than most of them, 
tinged, it seemed, with knowledge of the world. She had 
studied the Montessori method and was trying to train 
her little brothers and sisters thereby. But she was not 
forgetful of what is lovely in her own race, primitive as 
it is, and was preparing these children in something of 


a compromise between native and foreign dances. Round 
and round the room they marched, the overhanging lamps 
playing pranks with their shadows. Others sat upon 
the mats, legs crossed, beating time and clapping hands 
in the native fashion. Their glistening bodies and spar- 
kling, mischievous eyes, their response to the enchanting 
rhythm and melody borrowed from a world as strange 
to them as theirs is to us, showed their delight. I won- 
dered what strange images — ghostly pale folk — they 
were seeing through our songs. Perhaps the music was 
merely another kind of ^ ^savage'' song to them, even a 
wee bit wilder than their own. On the following day 
they were to sing and dance to the amazement of their 
skeptical elders. 

Thus does Fijian ** civilization" steer its uncertain 
course between the two contending influences from the 
West — the planters and the missionaries — just as the 
river Rewa runs between them over the jungle plains, 
struggling to supplant wild entangling growths with 
earth culture. 

And that ** civilization " leans at one time toward the 
mill and at another toward the mission. Frankly, Fiji 
grows more interesting as one gets away from these two 
guy-wires and floats on the sluggish river. My oppor- 
tunity of seeing that Fiji which is least confused by either 
influence came unexpectedly. The missionaries gener- 
ously invited me to go with them up the river in their 
launch early Monday morning. Everywhere along the 
banks of the broad, deep stream stood groups of huts 
and villages amid the sugar-cane fields. I gazed up the 
wide way of the river toward the hazy blue mountains 
which stood fifty miles away. They seemed to be a thou- 
sand miles and farther still from reality. The Hima- 
layas which lured the Lama priest and Kim could not 
have been more enticing. Because of the cloying at- 


mosphere of the day, this distant coolness was like an 
oasis in the desert, and I longed for some phantom ship 
to bear me away on the breeze. 

For twenty miles we glided on through cane planta- 
tions, banana- and cocoanut-trees, and miniature pali- 
sades here and there rising to the dignity of hills. We 
landed, toward noon, at a village which stood on a little 
plateau, — quiet, self-satisfied, though in no way elabo- 
rate. The best of the huts stood against the hill across 
the ** street'' formed by two rows of thatch-roofed and 
leaf-walled huts. It belonged to the native Christian 
teacher. Efe turned it over to us, himself and his wife 
and baby disappearing while we lunched. Much of our 
repast remaining, the missionary offered it to the 
teacher, but I noticed that he looked displeased and 
turned the platter over to the flock of children which 
had gathered outside, — a brood of little fellows, their 
bellies bulging out before them, not even the shadow of a 
garment covering their nakedness. 

I returned to the hut a little later for my camera, not 
knowing that any one was there. Inside, in one comer, 
lay the teacher's wife, stretched face downward, nursing 
her baby, which lay on its back upon the soft mats. She 
smiled, slightly embarrassed, and I withdrew. Here, 
then, was the place where civilization and savagery met. 

There were few Fijians in the village, mostly children 
and several old women. A Solomon Islander, who had 
got there during the days when blackbirding or kidnap- 
ping was common, moved among them. He had quite 
forgotten his own language and could not understand 
Mr. Ryecroft when the missionary spoke to him. An 
elderly man beckoned to me from his hut and there of- 
fered to sell me a heavy, ebony carved club that could 
kill an ox, swearing by all the taboos that it was a sacred 
club and had killed many a man in his father's time. 

A narrow path climbing the hill close behind the vil- 
lage led us to a view over the long sweep of the river 



The corrugated iron-roofed shack is the one we ate our lunch in 

The only things some of these had on were sores on the tops of their heads 


and its valley. The utmost of peace and tranquillity 
hung, without a tremor, below us. Twenty huts fringed 
the plateau, forming a vague ellipse, interwoven with 
lovely salvias, ooleuses, and begonias. The village seemed 
to have been caught in the crook of the river, while a 
field of sugar-cane filled the plain across the stream, 
the shaggy mountains quartering it from the rear. Dis- 
tant, reaching toward the sun, ranged the mountains 
from which the river is daily born anew. 

As our launch chugged steadily, easily down-stream, 
and the evening shadows overstepped the sun, Fiji 
emerged fresh and sweet as I had not seen it before. The 
missionaries, till then sober and reserved, relaxed, the 
men's heads in the laps of their wives. Sentimental 
songs of long ago, like a stream of soft desire through 
the years, supplanted precept in their minds, and I re- 
alized for the first time why some men chose to be mis- 
sionaries. It was to them no hardship. The trials and 
sufferings were romance to their natures, and the giving 
up of everything for Christ was after all only living out 
that world-old truism that in order to have life one must 
be ready to surrender it. 


Next day Mr. Waterhouse and I wandered about the 
village of the sugar factory. At the bidding of several 
minor chiefs who had described a circle on the mats, we 
entered one of the dark huts by way of a low door. In a 
comer a woman tended the open fire, and near an opening 
a girl sat munching. The room was thick with smoke, 
the thin reeds supporting the roof glistening with soot. 
Everything was in order and according to form. They 
were making hava (or ava or yangana), the native drink. 
This used to be the work of the chieftain 's daughter, who 
ground the ava root with her teeth and then mixed it 
with water. The law does n't permit this now; so it is 


crushed in a mortar {tonoa). Specialization has reached 
out its tentacles even to this place, so that now the cap- 
tain of this industry is an Indian. 

The ava mixed, it was passed round in a well-scraped 
cocoanut-shell cut in half. As guests we were offered 
the first drink. Extremely bitter, it is nevertheless re- 
freshing. After I made a pretense of drinking, the 
bowl was passed to the most respected chief. With 
gracious self-restraint he declined it. *^This is too full. 
You have given me altogether too much.'* A little bit 
of it was poured back, and he drank it with one gulp. 
He would really have liked twice as much, not half, but 
there is more modesty and decorum among savages than 
we imagine. In fact, our conventions are often only 
atrophied taboos. 

But the women, not so handsome nor so elegantly 
coifed as the men, were excluded from a share in the 
toast. They were not even part of the entertainment. 
The sexes seldom meet in any form of social intercourse. 
The boys never flirt with the girls, nor do they ever seem 
to notice them. In public there is a never-diminishing 
distance between them. A world without love-making, 
primitive life is outwardly not so romantic as is ours. 
The ** romance^' is generally that of the foreigner with 
the native women, not among the natives themselves. 

The daughter of the biggest living Fijian chief wan- 
dered about like an outcast. She wore a red Mother- 
Hubbard gown, and nothing else. Her hair hung down 
to her shoulders. Having gone through the process of 
discoloration by the application of lime, according to the 
custom among the natives in the tropics, it was reddish 
and stiff, but, being long, had none of the leonine quality 
of the men 's hair. Audi Cacarini (Fijian for Katherine), 
daughter of a modern chief, spoke fairly good English. 
She wasn't exactly ashamed, but just shy. The better 
class of Fijians, they who have come in contact with white 


people, all manifest a timid reticence. Andi Cacarini 
was shy, but hardly what one could call bashful or fastid- 
ious. She posed for me as though an artistes model, 
not at all ungraceful in her carriage or her walk. 

The male Fijian is extremely timid, but none the less 
fastidious. The care with which he trains and curls his 
hair would serve as an object-lesson to the impatient 
husband of the vainest of white women. This doesn't 
mean that the Fijian man is effeminate in his ways, but 
he is particular about his hair. The process of discolor- 
ing it is exact. A mixture of burnt coral with water 
makes a fine substitute for soap. When washed out and 
dried, the hair is curled and combed and anointed. From 
the point of view of sanitation, the treatment is excel- 
lent, and from that of art — ^just watch the proud male 
pass down the road! 

No matter where one goes in Fiji — or any of the South 
Sea Islands — the dance goes with one. Here at Davui- 
levu one afternoon in the hot, scorching sun, the natives 
gathered on the turf for merrymaking. It was no special 
holiday, no unusual event. To our way of thinking it is 
a tame sort of dance they do. We hear much of the 
freedom between the sexes in the tropics, and one gains 
the impression that there are absolutely no taboos. But 
just as there is nothing in all Japan — ^however delight- 
ful — to compensate the child, or even grown-ups, for the 
lack of the kiss, so none of the Fijian dances fill that 
same emotional requirement which with us is secured 
through the embrace of men and women in the dance. 
From the Fijian point of view, the whirling of couples 
about together must be extremely immodest, if not im- 

Sitting in a double row, one in front of the other, were 
oiled and garlanded Fijians. Behind them and in a cir- 
cle sat a number of singers and lali-players. As they 
began beating time, the oiled natives began to move from 
side to side rhythmically. Their arms and bodies jerked 


in a most fascinating and interpretative manner. No 
voices in the wide world are lovelier than the voices of 
Fijians in chorus ; no other music issues so purely as the 
Fijian music from the depths of racial experience. Some- 
times the dancers swung half-way round from side to 
side, with arms akimbo, or extended their arms in all di- 
rections, clapping their hands while chanting in sooth- 
ing, melodious deep tones. 

Judging from what I heard of the music of the Ton- 
gans, the Samoans, and the Fijians, I give the prize to 
the Fijians for richness of tone. More primitive than 
the plaintive Tongans, the Fijian music is a weird com- 
bination of the intellectual, the martial, and the indus- 
trial, — ^more fascinating than the passionate, voluptuous 
tunes and dances of the Samoans and the Hawaiians. 
The Polynesians, probably because of their close kinship 
with the Europeans, are much more sentimental in their 
music. The Fijian is more vigorous and to me more 
truly artistic. 

No study, it seems to me, would throw more light on 
the history and unity of the human race than that of the 
dance and music. Why two races so far apart as the 
Japanese and the Maories of New Zealand should be so 
strikingly alike in their cruder dances, is hard to say. 
And the Fijians seem in some way the link between these 
two. The Fijian doubtless inherits some of his musical 
qualities from his negroid mixture, but he has certainly 
improved upon it if that is so. He has no regrets, no 
sentimental longings, and in consequence his songs are 
free from racial affectation. 

The Fijians always sing. The instant the day's work 
is done and groups form they begin to sing. Half a 
dozen of them sit down and cross their legs before them, 
each places a stick so that one end rests lightly on one 
toe, the other on the ground; and while they tap upon 
these sticks, others sing and clap hands, swaying in an 
enchantment of loveliness. One carries the melody in a 


strained tenor, the others support him with a bass drawl. 
Once in a while an instrument is secured, as a flute, and 
the ensemble is complete. Even the tapping on the 
stick becomes instrumental in its quality. 

As the day draws to a close, from the cane-fields smoke 
rises in all directions. The plantation workers have 
gathered piles of cane refuse for destruction. Like min- 
iature volcanoes, these, with the coming of darkness, 
shine in the lightless night. It makes one slightly sad, 
this clearing away of the remnants of daily toil, this 
purification by fire. Then the sound of that other lali 
(the hollow tree-trunk), once the war-alarum or call to a 
cannibal feast, now at Davuilevu the invitation to prayer, 
the dampness, and the sense of crowding things in 
growth, — this is what will ever remain vivid to me. 

Poor untroubled Fijians! This simple love of har- 
mony, a majestic sense of force and brutality, — yet, 
withal, so naive, withal so easily satisfied, so easily led. 
Once a foreigner met a native who seemed in great haste 
and trembhng. The native inquired the time, in dread 
lest he miss the launch for Suva. In his hand he carried 
a warrant for his own arrest, with instructions to present 
himself at jail. When the foreigner told him that it 
was up to the jailer to worry about it, he seemed greatly 
shocked. One of the missionaries had been asked to 
keep his eye on a friend's house. In the absence of the 
owner, the missionary found a Fijian in the act of bur- 
glarizing. When questioned it was found that the native 
wanted to get into jail, where he was sure of three meals 
and shade, without worry. This is almost worthy of 
civilized man, by whom it is perhaps more commonly 

But the kind of jail in which men were at that time 
incarcerated was not enough to frighten the most liberty- 


loving individual. Because of the humidity and damp- 
ness, the structure was left open on one side, only three 
substantial walls and a roof being practical. Before the 
white man got full control and the native had some iron 
injected into his nature, it was not an arduous life the 
prisoners led. The missionary told me that once the 
head jailer was found sitting out of sight, with the officer 
in charge of the prisoners, tilting his chair against the 
wall of the jail. The prisoners had been ordered to 
labor. The officer in charge was to execute the com- 
mand. Between puffs of tobacco, he would shout : * ^ Up 
shot!*' and rest a while; then ^^Down shot!'' — more rest. 
Not a prisoner moved a muscle, the weights never rose 
from the ground. The men were deep within the 
shadows. The period of punishment over, they were or- 
dered into their heaven of still more rest and more shade. 

From our way of thinking, these are flagrant decep- 
tions. But to the Fijian (and to most South Sea races) 
the inducements for greater exertion are simply non- 
existent. His revelries have been tabooed, his wars 
have been stopped, his native arts are in constant com- 
petition with cheap importations from our commercial- 
ized, industrialized world. What is there, then, for him 
to do 1 Little wonder that his native indifference to life 
is growing upon him. His conception of life after death 
never held many horrors. Even in the fierce old days it 
was easy for a Fijian to announce most casually that he 
would die at eight o'clock the following day. He would 
be oiled and made ready, and at the stated time he died. 
Most likely a state of catalepsy, but he was buried and 
none thought a second time about it. One boy was re- 
cently roused from such a condition and still lives. 

The only means of counteracting this apathy are edu- 
cation and the awakening of ambition through manual 
training and the teaching of trades. This, the head of 
the mission told me, was his main object. Missionary 
efforts, according to one man, were directed more to this 


purpose than to the inculcation of any special religious 
precepts. And there is no question that that will work. 
The will to live may yet spring afresh in the Fijian. 

From the nucleus formed by the mission is growing a 
more elaborate educational system. Eecently the several 
existing schools have been amalgamated under a new or- 
dinance. A proposal in reference to a more efficient sys- 
tem of vernacular or sub-primary schools was embodied 
in a bill put before the legislative council. A more satis- 
factory method of training teachers was deliberated upon. 
The Fijians are, it is seen, outgrowing the kindergarten 
stage, but the grown-ups are largely children still. 


A fortnight after I landed in Suva I was steaming for 
Levuka, the former capital of the islands, situated on 
a much smaller land-drop not many hours* journey away. 
These are the only two important ports in the group, 
and inter-island vessels seldom go to one without visit- 
ing the other. Levuka is a much prettier place than 
Suva. Its little clusters of homes and buildings seem 
to have dug their heels into the hillside to keep from 
sliding into the sea. 

Along the shore to the left stood a group of Fijian 
huts, — a suburb of Levuka, no doubt. Only a few old 
women were at home, and one old man. Nothing in the 
wide world is more restful to one's spirit than to arrive 
at a village which is deserted of toilers. Nothing is 
more symbolic of the true nature of home, the village 
being more than an isolated home, but a composite of 
the home spirit which is not tainted by any evidence of 
barter and trade. 

On the other side of Levuka, however, was an alto- 
gether different kind of village, that of the shipwrights. 
Upon dry-docks stood the skeletons of ships, fashioned 
with hands of love and ambition. In such vessels these 


ancient rovers of the sea wandered from island to island, 
learning, teaching, mixing, and disturbing the sweetness 
of nature, with which no race on earth was more blessed. 

The Atua, on which I had sailed from Suva, was a 
fairly large inter-island steamer that made the rounds 
of all the important groups. She was bound for Samoa, 
whither I had determined to go. There is no better op- 
portunity of getting a glimpse of the contrast between 
the natives of the various South Sea islands than on 
board one of these inter-island vessels. They are gen- 
erally manned by the natives of one of the groups, — in 
this case, the Fijians. These men handle the cargo at 
all ports, and remain on board until the vessel returns 
to Fiji en route to the Antipodes. They feed and sleep 
on the open deck and make themselves as happy and as 
noisy as they can. A gasoline tin of tea, baked potatoes, 
hard biscuit, and a chunk of fat meat, which is all placed 
before them on the dirty deck (they are given no nap- 
kins), — that is Fijian joy. 

After their work, which in port sometimes keeps them 
up till the morning hours, these strange creatures, un- 
troubled by thought, stretch themselves on the wooden 
hatchway and sleep. There I found them at half -past 
five in the morning, all covered with the one large sheet 
of canvas and never a nose poking out. Air ! Perhaps 
they got some through a little hole in the great sheet. 
Some stood and slept like tired, overworked horses. 

One queer Fijian with turbaned head grinned in imi- 
tation of none other than himself, a vague, undefined 
curiosity rolling about in his skull. He followed me 
everywhere, his white eyes staring and his mouth wide 
open. Here was a future Fijian statesman in the proc- 
ess of formation. His nebular, chaotic mentality was 
taking note of a creature as far removed from his under- 
standing as a star from his reach. 

One white soldier, an elderly man, wished to protect 
himself from the wind, and asked a Fijian to haul over 

But who said that the wearing of hats causes baldness (?) 

In her filet gown of Parisian simplicity 


Puzzle: find the bride. No. not the one with the hoop-skirt; that's the groom 


a piece of canvas. The black man did so, but when the 
boatswain saw it, he was enraged. The Fijian took all 
the scolding, said never a word, and quickly replaced the 
sheet. As the boatswain moved away, the soldier handed 
the native a cigarette, saying: **Have one of these, old 
sport. One must expect reverses in war.'' The native 
grinned and felt the row was worth while. 

There were Tongans, Indians, Samoans, and whites 
on board, and though these are nearer kin to us, I liked 
the Fijians most. Yet the Tongans are an attractive lot, 
refined in feature, in manner, and in person. Perhaps 
that is why they have the distinction of being the only 
South Sea people with their own kingdom, a cabinet, and 
a parliament. 

The noise the Fijians make while in port is excruciat- 
ing. It is something unclassifiable. They roll their r's, 
shout as though mad with anger, and then burst out in 
childish laughter at nothing. These boyish barbarians 
enjoy themselves much more in yelling than they would 
in chorus with a Caruso. How torrential is the stream 
of invective which issues against some fellow-laborer! 
With what a terrific crash it falls upon its victim ! But 
how utter the disappointment when, after one has ex- 
pectantly waited for a scrap, a gurgle of hilarity breaks 
from the throats which the moment before seemed such 
sirens of hate and malice ! 

And so they toil, happy to appear important, busy, 
honestly busy, loading the thousands of crates of green 
bananas, the cargo which passes to and fro. Happier 
than the happiest, sharing the scraps of a meal without 
the growl so common among our sailors, each always 
seems to get just what he wants and helps in the distribu- 
tion of the portions to the others. The missus never 
bothers him, no matter how long he is away, and instantly 
labor ceases the group is ^* spiritualized'' into a singing 
society and the racial opera is in full swing. 

I had anticipated relief at their absence when the 


steamer set off for the colder regions south. Yet some- 
thing pleasant was gone out of life the moment the ship 
steamed out. The sailors moved about like pale ghosts 
who had mechanically wandered back to a joyless life. 
The white man^s virtues are his burdens. His tasks 
are done so that he may purchase pleasure. The ship 
was orderly, everything took its place, even the cursing 
and yelling came within control. We were heading 
again for civilization. 

I felt somewhat like the old folks after their wish had 
rid the town of all mischievous little boys, and my heart 
strained back for an inward glimpse of the life behind. 
The smell of mold and copra returned ; the damp beds ; 
the cool, clear night air ; the moonlight upon the shallo ^ 
reefs ; dappled gray breakers, playing upon the shore as 
upon a child's ocean; in the dark, along Victoria Parade, 
the shuffle of bare feet in the dust, the dim figures of tall, 
bushy-haired men and slim, wiry Hindus; the thud of 
heeled boots on the dry earth. And far off there, the 
sound of the lali, the singing of deep voices, the vision 
of an earthly paradise, — shattered by the sighting of 
land ahead. 



ON the Niagara was a troupe of Samoan men and 
women who had been to San Francisco demonstrat- 
ing their arts at the Panama-Pacific Exhibition. This, 
our meeting on the wide, syrup-like tropical sea seemed 
to me almost a welcome, a coming out to greet me and 
to lead me to the portals of their home. They were en 
route to Suva, Fiji, where they were to await an inter- 
island vessel to take them to Samoa. They were traveling 
third class, and the way I discovered them is not to their 
discredit. We were becoming more or less bored with 
life on deck, the games of ship tennis and quoits being 
too obviously make-believe to be entertaining. At times 
I would get as far away from the gregarious passengers 
as possible, and again a number of us would gather upon 
the hatchway and read or chatter. It was a thick lat- 
ticed covering, and the warm air from below none too 
agreeable. But with it rose strains of strange melodies, 
as from Neptune's regions of the deep. Peering down, 
we espied a number of Samoan men and women, lounging 
upon the floor of the hold. We took our reputations in 
our hands and made the descent. 

There were big, burly men and broad, sprawling 
women, half -naked and asleep. One could see at a glance 
that they had been spoiled by the attention they had re- 
ceived while on exhibition at the fair, but the freedom 
of life among third-class passengers somewhat softened 
the acquired stiffness, and they relaxed again into native 
ways. Hour by hour, as the vessel moved southward, 



they seemed to come back to life, to thaw out as it were, 
while we were wilting by degrees. 

The scene was one which could have been found only 
in tropical waters under the burning sun. Smoke, bare 
feet, nakedness, people fat with the sprawly fatness which 
is the style of the South Seas, unwashed sailors, — a 
medley of people and cargo and steamer stench. But 
also of the sweetly monotonous song of the Samoan girl, 
the swishing of the water against the nose of the ship 
in the twilight without, and the steady push of the vessel 
toward the equator. 

I whiled away many a pleasant hour, learning a few 
of the native words in song and gossip. It is hard to dis- 
tinguish one native from the other at first, but Fulaanu 
stood out above the rest like a creature over-imbued with 
good-nature. She was flat, flabby, with a drawl in speech 
that had the effect not only in her voice but her entire 
bearing of a leaning Tower of Pisa. Her body bent 
backward, her head was tilted up, and her long, prominent 
nose also slanted almost with pride. She was an enor- 
mous girl, plain, soft, with absolutely no fighting-spirit 
in her, but she stood her ground against all masculine 
advances with a charm that was in itself teasingly allur- 
ing. She was always flanked on each side by a sailor. 
They pretended to teach her the ukulele, they proffered 
English lessons, they found one excuse after another for 
being near her, and she never shooed them away; but 
I 'd swear by all the gods that not one of them ever more 
than held her hand or leaned lovingly against her. 

Yet Fulaanu was as sentimental a maiden as I have 
ever laid eyes on. She was constantly drawling some sen- 
timental song she had learned in California, the ukulele 
was seldom out of her hands, she never joined in any 
of the card games going on constantly roundabout her, 
and she was always ready to swap songs with any one 
willing to teach her. 

* ' I teach you my language, ' ' she said to me, and slowly, 


with twinkling eyes, she pronounced certain words which 
I repeated. We had often taught French to our boys 
at our little school in California in that way, — the Mar- 
seillaise, for instance, — and the method was not strange 
to me. She used the song method, too, an old English 
song that was just then the rage in Samoa. The English 
words run somewhat like this: 

And you will take my hand 

As you did when you took my name; 

But it ^s only a beautiful picture, 
In a beautiful golden frame. 

I'm sure I have them all muddled, but let me hum this 
tune to myself and immediately Fulaanu, the hold, 
Fiji, Samoa, and all the scents and sounds of savage- 
dom come instantly to my mind. For everywhere I went 
they were singing this song, through their noses but with 
all the sentimental ardor of the young flapper; as at a 
summer resort in America when a new song hit has been 
made, the sound of it is heard from delivery boy to house- 
maid and as many different renderings of it as individual 
temperament demands. 

There was Setu, too, — tall, straight, with that easy 
grace known only among people free of clothes. Setu 
spoke English very well, and was as companionable a 
chap as one could pick up in many a mile. But Setups 
heart was not his own ; he stood guardian over a treasure 
he had found in San Francisco. Not an American girl, 
no, sir ! These savage boys did not play the devil in our 
land as our savages do in theirs. But Setu was the per- 
sonification of chivalry, and, what was more, he was in 
love. To look at him and then at her was to despair of 
human instinct of natural selection. How an Apollo of 
his excellence should have been unable to find a more 
handsome objet d 'amour, I cannot imagine. She was 
short, well rounded, with a head as square as Fulaanu 's 
was oblong, and a nose as snubby as Fulaanu 's was ro- 
manesque. She was evidently committed, body and soul, 


to Setu for she was as devoid of charm for the others 
as Fulaanu was full of it. And so all day long, Setu and 
his sweetheart hugged each other in a corner, as obliv- 
ious of the presence of a ship-load of people as though 
they had been ensconced in a hut of their own. They 
were evidently taking advantage of proximity to civili- 
zation, for such immodest behavior is not frequent in the 
tropics. Civilization had taught the savages some things 
at least. Whenever Setu was free from love-making, he 
would spare a moment to me, and on those rare occa- 
sions he stirred my spirit with promises of guidance in 
his native island that threatened to exhaust my funds. 

The romantic associations we have with the South Seas 
were in this group reversed, for to these primitive peo- 
ple the greatest romance imaginable came with their 
journey to America. There young people from different 
islands met and fell in love with one another ; there, un- 
der the benign influence of American spooning, one cou- 
ple was married, and there their first baby was born, — an 
American subject, brought back to Pago Pago (American 
Samoa) to resume his citizenship. There they learned 
true modesty, which comprised stockings and heavy 
boys' shoes ; the art of playing solitaire, in which one fat, 
matronly-looking woman indulged all day as though she 
had been brought along as chaperon and felt herself 
considerably out of it ; and even en route for home th^y 
were learning the art of striking by calculation and with- 
out passion or frenzy. 

I was sitting on the hatch with Fulaanu, who was strum- 
ming away on her ukulele, when a ring was formed in the 
middle of the hold and a young white man began boxing 
with a Samoan. The white boxer was obviously an 
amateur, bearing himself with all the unpleasant man- 
nerisms of his profession, — a haughty, pugnacious, over- 
bearing self-conceit. He had every advantage in train- 
ing over his antagonist, whom he peppered vigorously. 
He kept it up when it was evident that the young Samoan 


was going under. One last blow and the fellow doubled 
over, bleeding from nose and mouth. It took ten min- 
utes to bring him round. In the meanwhile, the victor 
of the unfair bout strutted around as though he had 
accomplished something remarkable. 

It was interesting to see the effect this had on the 
*' primitive'* Samoans. There was consternation among 
them; a hush came over the hold. The vibration of the 
steamer and the splashing of the water against its iron 
side alone broke the stillness. The Samoan girls, though 
they did not grow hysterical, were most decidedly dis- 
pleased, turning in disgust from the sight of blood. 
Yet according to our notions they are primitive, and the 
fact is that a few generations ago they were savages. 

But they were not long in distress. The spell of the 
equatorial sun was upon them, and they soon relaxed. 
There upon mats, as in their own huts, lay rows of fat, 
large, voluptuous men and women ; nor was there even a 
rope to separate the sexes as in an up-to-date Japanese 
bath. They seemed to sleep all day, in shifts governed 
by impulse only. A woman would rise and move about 
a while, then go back to lounge again. Enormous, broad- 
shouldered and black mustached men would snore 
gently, rise and inspect life, and decide that slumber 
was better for one 's soul. But Fulaanu lounged with her 
ukulele, surrounded by amorous sailors who gazed 
longingly into her eyes. 

One night we arranged for a meeting of the *' classes.'* 
We promised the Samoans a good collection if they would 
come and dance for us on deck. We invited the first- 
class folk to come, too. They stood as far to one side of 
us as was consonant with first-class dignity represented 
by an extra few pounds sterling in the price of the ticket. 
But for a moment we forgot that there were class and 
race in the world. 

It was not one of those interminable revelries one 
reads about, that begin with twilight and end with twi- 


light. On the contrary, it was a little squall of enter- 
tainment, one that breaks out of a clear sky and leaves 
the sky just as clear in a trice. There was no occasion 
for self-expression here. They had been asked to dance 
for our entertainment, not for theirs. There we stood, 
ready to applaud ; there they were, ready to be applauded, 
to receive the collection promised. It was another little 
thing they had picked up in our world, from our civili- 
zation, — the commercialization of art. Our artists, 
scribes, and entertainers have been considerably raised 
above prostitution of their talents by a certain commer- 
cialization, by the translation of their worth in dollars 
and cents ; and we need a little more of it to free art from 
bondage to patronage. But in the tropics, where the 
dance and jollity are no private matters, there is some- 
thing sterile in commercialization. No doubt to the na- 
tives there is little difference between a woman giving 
herself for gain and a man dancing for the money there 
is in it without the whole group becoming part of the 
performance: the dancer feels that his purchaser, his 
public, is cold and unresponsive. And so it seemed to me 
at this dance. They finished, they expected their money, 
they got it and departed, and there seemed something 
immoral to me in the exploitation of their emotions. 

What a different lot they were one night when I visited 
the little house they rented in Suva while waiting for the 
Atua to arrive from New Zealand and take them on to 
Samoa. There it was song and dance out of sheer ec- 
stasy: life was so full. They were again in their home 
atmosphere, and their voices only helped swell the vol- 
ume of song which issued forth everywhere about, — an 
electrification of humanity all along the line, in village 
after village. 

They hung about the pier before sailing for Samoa 
till after midnight, singing sentimental songs and hob- 
nobbing with the Fijians. The Fijian constable joined 
them with a flute, and the lot of them tried to drown out 


the voices of the natives loading and unloading cargo. 
Not until notice was given that the ship was about to get 
under steam did they think of going aboard. They 
looked as though ready for rest, but by no means dissi- 
pated, by no means weary. The spell of song was still 
upon them. 

When we woke next morning, we were tied up to a pier 
at the foot of the hills of Levuka. But I have already 
dwelt upon the features of this former capital, and am 
only concerned with it here as it was reflected in the 
eyes of the Samoans. Levuka to me was one thing; to 
them it was quite another. The moldy little stores af- 
forded them more interest than the village to the left, 
or the shipyards to the right which were to my Western 
notions commendable. 

I followed in the wake of these gliding natives as we 
left the steamer. They looked neither to the right nor 
to the left, but wended their ways, like cattle in the pas- 
ture, straight toward the shops. Into one and out the 
other they went, bargaining, pricing, buying little trin- 
kets and simple cloths, chatting with the Fijians as 
though friends of old. 

Setups sweetheart and the pretty mother of the young 
American citizen, who was left in the care of the fat 
** chaperon, ' ' set off by themselves through the one and 
only street of Levuka. It was obvious that they were 
quite aware of whither they were going, — so direct was 
their journey. My curiosity was roused and I wandered 
along with them. They said never a word to me, nor 
objected to my presence. We turned to the left, off into 
a side street that began to insinuate its way along the 
bed of a stream lined with wooden huts and shacks. 
Some of these were fairly well constructed, with ve- 
randas, like the houses of a miniature American town, 
garlanded in flowers. Just above the village, where the 
stream began to emerge from behind a rocky little gorge> 
the two women turned in at a gate to a private cottage. 


A bridge led across the stream to the little house, the 
veranda of which extended slightly over the stream. 
Beneath, in a corner formed by a projecting boulder, lay 
a quiet little pool of water — clear, cool, fresh and deep. 

Without asking permission from the owners, the 
women began slowly, cautiously to wade into the pool. 
Seeing that I had no thought of going, they put modesty 
aside, slipped the loose garments down to their waists 
and immersed themselves up to their necks. One of 
them was tattooed from below her breasts to her hips; 
the other's breasts alone bore these designs. They 
dipped and rose, splashed and spluttered, but there was 
none of that intimacy with their own flesh which is the 
essence of cleanliness and passion in our world. There 
was no soap, no scrubbing. It was something objective, 
almost, a contact with nature like looking at a landscape 
or listening to a storm. 

Presently some of the inmates of the cottage, evidently 
well-to-do Fijians, came out to greet them. I could not 
tell whether they were friends or not, but the women 
were invited in, — and I turned into town through back 
roads and alleys that were just like the back roads and 
alleys anywhere in the world. 

That afternoon we steamed out again for Apia, Samoa. 
The sea was disturbed somewhat and gave us various 
sensations ; but the vile odors that threatened my nauti- 
cal pride never changed. 

Most of the Samoans were under the weather. They 
did not look cheerful, and all song was gone out of them. 
Setu and his sweetheart were here even more insepara- 
ble than on the Niagara, She was not very well and 
stretched out on the bench on the edge of which he took 
his seat. In her squeamish condition she could hardly 
be expected to pay much attention to proprieties she had 
acquired in less than a year's residence in America. 
Her sprawly bare feet on several occasions made too 
bold an exit from beneath the loose Mother-Hubbard 


gown she wore, and each time Setu would draw the skirt 
farther over them, affectionately pressing them with his 
hand. This one instance, exceptional as it was, made me 
notice more consciously the absence of that public 
intimacy which is the bane of the prude with us. Not all 
the charm of the tropics which is so real to me can take 
the place of the cleanliness of the West, the tenderness 
of clean men and women in public, to be observed even on 
our crowded subways, the loveliness of white skin tinged 
with pink and scented with the essence of flowers. 

I did not see them again before we arrived at Samoa 
the next day; the sea was too choppy. But in the after- 
noon Setu came out with a pillow held aloft over his head, 
and declared he would take a nap. There was childish 
glee in his face at the prospect, and he stretched out on 
the hard deck in perfect ease. And long after I ceased 
to figure in his fancies, the beaming, sparkling eyes and 
merry grin seemed to light up the soul within him. 

Toward sundown we passed the first island of the 
group, — Savaii, the largest. It lay at our left, Mua Peak 
emitting a sluggish smoke from reaches beyond the depth 
of the waters which had nearly submerged it, and as the 
sea made furious charges into blow-holes or half -sub- 
merged caverns, the earth spit back the invading waters 
with an easy contempt. 

At our right lay the island of Manono, much smaller, 
and nearer our course. Shy Samoan villages hid in 
little ravines, almost afraid to show their faces. 

Shortly after eight o'clock we neared the island of 
Upolu. The troupe of Samoans came out on deck with 
the eagerness in their eyes that marks such arrivals at 
every port of the world. The lights of the village of 
Apia pricked the delicate evening haze. One strong, 
steady lamp, like a planet, shone from above the others. 
Setu called to me eagerly, his right hand pointing 
toward it. 


**That is from Vailima, Stevenson's home/* he said, 
with some pride. 

When at last we anchored just outside the reefs before 
Apia, these natives, who had grown close to one another 
during the year of their pilgrimage, began bidding one 
another farewell before slipping back to the little sepa- 
rate grooves they called home. The women kissed one 
another, cheek touching cheek at an angle, a practice 
common both at meeting (talofa) and at parting (tofa). 
But with the men they only shook hands. Then, clam- 
bering over into canoes, they were borne across the reefs 
to their homes. And as long as Polynesia is Polynesia 
there will echo the stories of this journey to the land of 
the white man and all children will know that what the 
white man said about his lands is true. 

The reader who has never entered a strange port nor 
come home from foreign lands will not be able to imagine 
the psychological effect of my entry of Samoa. Not only 
did the thousands of eyes of the natives seem to turn 
their gaze upon me, but it seemed, and I was quite sure, 
that at least two thousand pale faces with as many bay- 
onets were fixed upon me. Samoa was under occupation. 
I asked the captain of the forces what I could do to 
avoid trouble. 

**See that you don't get shot," he said. I assured him 
there was nothing nearer my heart's desire, and, seeing 
that I looked harmless, he ventured to reassure me : ^*0h, 
just keep away from the wireless. That 's all." I had 
come to see the natives, not electric gymnastics, so I 
found it very easy to keep away from the wireless. 

What there was of Apia was essentially European and 
lay along the waterfront. Here stood the three-story 
hotel, built and until then managed by Germans. Diag- 
onally across from it and nearer the water's edge, was a 


two-story ramshackle building even then ran by Ger- 
mans. The little barber to whom I had been directed 
spoke with a most decided German accent. He cut and 
shampooed my hair, but let me walk out with as much 
of a souse on top of my head as I ever had in a shower- 
bath. Wherever I went were Germans, — and yet they 
said the islands were under occupation. Turn to the 
right and there, back off the street within a small com- 
pound that seemed to lie flat and low, was a German 
school still being conducted by black-bearded German 
priests. But to the left, within the dark-red fence, stood 
the dark-red buildings of the German Plantation Com- 
pany, closed, and the little building that once was 
the German Club had become the British Club ; while at 
the other end of the street were the office buildings of 
the military staff, where once ruled the German militar- 
ists. In between, in a little building a block or two 
behind the waterfront, was the printing-office, — where, 
strange to say, the daily paper was still being printed in 
both German and English. With the few structures that 
filled in the gaps between these outposts we had small 
concern. They were the nests of traders, the haven of 
so-called beach-combers and the barracks and missionary 
compounds. And alien Samoa is at an end. 

Mindful of the mild instructions not to get myself shot, 
I took as little interest in the details of occupation as 
was compatible with my sense of freedom ; but this course 
was precarious, for at the time any one who was not 
with us was against us. However, details of such dif- 
ferences must be reserved for a later chapter. Here we 
are interested in Samoa itself. But in my very interest 
in the place I struck a snag, for every other day Germans 
were being deported or coraled for attempting to stir 
up a native uprising. Still, inasmuch as I could not 
acquire the language in so short a time, I felt secure, and 
took to the paths that led to the Stone Age as a Dante 
without a love-affair to guide him. 


The island is hemmed in by coral reefs on the edge of 
which the waves break, spreading in foam and gliding 
quietly toward shore. As they sport in the brilliant sun- 
light, it seems as though the sea were calling back the 
life lost to it through evolution. The tall, gaunt palms 
which lean toward the sea, bow in a humble helplessness. 
There, a quarter of a mile out, upon the unseen reefs, 
lies the iron skeleton of the Adler, the German man-of- 
war which was wrecked on the memorable day in 1889. 
Such seems to be the fate of the Germans: even their 
skeletons outlive disaster. But the sea has been the 
protector of the natives. It would be interesting to 
speculate as to what course events about the South Seas 
would have taken had not that hurricane intervened. 
The natives are indifferent to such speculations; for, as 
far as they were concerned, one turn was as good as 
another. Borne over the swelling waves from island 
drift to island drift, the ups and downs of eternity seem 
to leave no great changes in their lives. 

Roaming along the waterfront to the left of Apia 
with the sun near high noon, all by myself, I met with 
nothing to disturb the utter sweetness and glory of life 
about. I wavered between moods of exquisite exhilara- 
tion and deep depression. Bound by the encircling con- 
sciousness of the occupation, the sense of wrong done 
these natives who had neither asked for our civilization 
nor invited us to squabble over their ^' bones,'' I felt that 
but for the presence of the white man this would have 
been the loveliest land in the world. For here one 
becomes aware of nature as something altogether dif- 
ferent from nature anywhere else. That distant pleading 
of the sea ; the gentle yielding of the palms to the land- 
born breezes, — there was much more than peace and 
ease ; there was absolute harmony. But where was man? 

I became restless. Nature was not sufficient. I went 
to seek out man, for at that hour there was none of him 
anywhere about. I was, for all intents and purposes, 


absolutely the only human being on that island. Every 
one else had taken to cool retreats. But where should I 
go ? I wondered. I knew no one, and the sense of loneli- 
ness I had for a while forgotten came back to me with 
a rush. For a moment I was again in civilization, again 
in a world of fences and locked doors. **I will go and 
look up Setu,'' I thought. *'He promised to guide me 
about Samoa. I have his address. I '11 look up Setu.'' 
So I turned back toward the hills and in among the palm 
groves, where I could see the huts of the village of 
Mulinuu, where Setu lived. 

When I arrived I realized why I had suddenly become 
conscious of my loneliness. Throughout the village there 
wasn't a soul abroad. The domes of thatch resting on 
circles of smooth pillars were deserted, it seemed, and 
the fresh coolness that coursed freely within their shade 
was untasted. Nowhere upon the broad, grassy fields 
beneath the palms was there a walking thing ; and I was 
a total stranger. It was slightly bewildering, as though 
I were in a graveyard, or a village from which the 
inhabitants had all gone. I approached one of the huts 
and found, to my satisfaction, that there was a human 
being there. It was a woman, attending to her house- 
hold duties. She was just under the eaves on the outside, 
beside the floor of the hut, which was like a circular stage 
raised a foot or two above the ground, and paved with 
loose shingles from the shore. I hardly knew how to 
approach her, not thinking she might know my language. 

**Good afternoon," she said in perfect English. ^^Sit 
down." The shock was pleasant. So there were no 
fences or doors to social intercourse in Samoa, after all. 
Still, I must find Setu. I asked her where I could locate 
his home. Before directing me, she chatted a while and 
assured me that I could go to any one of the huts about 
and make myself comfortable. I was not to hesitate, as 
it was the custom of the country and in no way unusual. 
She was a fine-looking woman, robust and tall, genial 


and attentive, as housewifely a person as could be found 
anywhere. I have since had occasion to talk with many 
a housewife in New Zealand and Australia when search- 
ing for private quarters and cannot say that their man- 
ners, their dress, their regard for a stranger's welfare 
in any way exceeded those of this woman who had noth- 
ing to offer me but rest and no wish for reward but my 

Taking her directions, I turned across the village to 
where she said Setu could be found. Beneath the shade 
of a palm squatted a group of men who when they spied 
me called for me to come over to them. Had I not been 
on curiosity bent, I should have regarded their request 
as sheer impudence, for when I arrived they wanted me 
to employ them as guides. It was amusing. Instead of 
running after hire, they commanded the stranger to come 
to them. It was too comfortable under the spreading 
palm branches. I told them that I had arranged with 
Setu to guide me and was in search of him. They began 
running Setu down. He was untrustworthy, they assured 
me, and would charge me too high a price. Then they 
asked me what my business was, what Setu had said, 
when he was going, — everything imaginable. But never 
an inch would they move to show me the way to Setups 
house. I wandered about for a while, inquiring of one 
stray individual and another, but no one had seen Setu, 
and at last I learned that he had left the village early 
that morning for his father's place, far inland, and 
would not return. Setu had gone back on me. He had 
promised to call for me with his horse and buggy and 
convey me over the island. But Setu had forsaken me, 
and there was nothing to do but to make the best of the 
day right there. 

Taking the word of the well - spoken woman, I 
approached the most attractive-looking hut, where sat a 
number of people roundabout the pillars. It was a 
mansion-like establishment even to my inexperienced 


judgment of huts. It was roofed with corrugated iron 
instead of thatch, and the pillars were unusually straight 
and smooth. The raised floor was very neatly spread 
with selected, smooth, flat stones four to five inches in 
diameter, and framed with a rim of concrete. Fine straw 
mats lay like rugs over a polished parquet floor at all 
angles to one another, and straw drop curtains hung 
rolled up under the eaves, to be lowered in case of rain 
or hurricane. The floor space must have been at least 
thirty-five feet in diameter, and it was plain that each 
inhabitant occupied his own section of the hut round the 
outer circle. 

I was cordially greeted and invited to rest, which I 
did by sitting on the ground with my legs out, and my 
back to a pillar for support. From the quiet and decorum 
it was evident that the householders were entertaining 
guests. Each couple or family sat upon its own mats. 
There were twelve adults and three children. It hap- 
pened that the man who greeted me and bade me be 
seated was the guest of honor, a gentleman from Karo- 
tanga, passing through Samoa on his way to Fiji. He 
was a very refined-looking individual, and made me feel 
that the Earotangans were a superior race, but the con- 
trary is true. However, his regular features and courtly 
manners were a distinction which might well have 
led to such a supposition. His handsome wife, who sat 
with him, was as retiring as a Japanese woman, and as 
considerate of his comfort. 

The others were set in pairs all round the hut. At 
the extreme left were two women, sewing; opposite us, 
a man and woman apportioning the victuals; to my 
right, a man and a woman grinding the ava root prepara- 
tory to the making of the drink. Farther way squatted 
a very fat woman, with barely a covering over her 
breasts, which were full as though she were in the nurs- 
ing-stage. The children moved about freely neither 
disturbing nor being curbed. In the center of the com- 


pany sat two men, one evidently the head of the family, 
with his back up against a pillar, the other his equal in 
some relationship. 

The dinner was being served by a portly individual, 
a man who could not have been exactly a servant, yet 
who did not act as though he were a member of the 
family. He passed round the ample supply of fish, 
meats, and vegetables on enamel plates, his services 
always being acknowledged graciously. No one looked 
at or noticed his neighbor, but indulged with the aid of 
spoon or finger as he saw fit, and had any made a faux 
pas there would have been none the wiser. That, I 
thought, was true politeness. 

Dinner over, the remains were removed and each per- 
son leaned back against the nearest pillar. After a slight 
pause, the eldest man, he in the center of the hut, clapped 
his hands, and uttered a gentle sound, as one satisfied 
would say: **Well! Let 's get down to business.'' But it 
was nothing so serious or so material as that. It was 
ava-drinking time. The polished cocoanut bowl was 
passed round, by the same old waiter, to the man whose 
name was called aloud by the head of the household, and 
each time all the rest clapped hands two or three times to 
cheer his cup. It was like the Japanese method of ^* ring- 
ing'' for a servant, not like our applause. Then fruits 
were passed around. Cocoanuts, soft and ripe, the outer 
shell like the skin of an alligator pear and easily cut with 
an ordinary knife, were first in order, after which the 
companion of the man in the middle of the hut, like a ma- 
gician on the stage, drew out of mysterious regions an 
enormous pineapple which may have been thirty inches 
in circumference. It might have had elephantiasis, for 
all I knew, but it was the cause of the only bit of dis- 
harmony I had noticed during the entire time I rested 
with them. The man to whom it fell to dispense its juicy 
contents — he who had sat unobtrusively beside the head 
of the house now found it necessary to stretch his legs 


in order the better to carve the fruity porcupine. The 
shock to my sense of form the moment I caught sight 
of those legs was enough to dissipate my greediest inter- 
est in the pineapple. They were twice the size of the 
fruit, and as knotty. He was suffering from elephan- 
tiasis of the legs, poor man, — a disease, according to the 
encyclopaedia, *^ dependent on chronic lymphatic obstruc- 
tion, and characterized by hypertrophy of the skin and 
subcutaneous tissue.'^ Morbid persons seem to enjoy 
taking away with them photographs of people affected 
by this hideous disease in various parts of the body, but 
it was enough for me that I saw this one case ; and sorry 
enough was I that I saw it at that quiet, peaceful hut, 
from which I should otherwise have carried away the 
loveliest of memories. 

For as soon as the meal was over, and the ava-drinking 
at an end, pleasures more intellectual were in order. 
Neighbors began to arrive, including the fine woman who 
had urged me to rest wherever I wished. As each new 
guest appeared, he passed round on the outside and 
shook hands with those to whom he was introduced, 
finally finding a quiet comer. 

When the interruptions ceased, the head of the house 
began to speak in a low, reflective tone of voice. All the 
others relaxed, as do men and women over their cigar- 
ettes. My Tongan neighbor acted as interpreter for me, 
being the only person present who could speak English. 
The head of the house was telling some family legend, 
the point of which was the friendship between his fore- 
fathers and the fathers of this Tongan guest. Then one 
at a time, quietly, in a subdued tone, each one present 
expressed his gratitude for the hospitality extended, or 
recited some family reminiscence. There wasn't the 
slightest affectation, nor the semblance of an argument. 
Here, then, was Thoreau's principle of hospitality 
actually being practised. As each one spoke he gazed 
out upon the open sky decorated with the broad green 


leaves of the palm. Sometimes the listeners smiled at 
some witticism, but most of the time they were interested 
in a sober way. Last of all arose the companion of the 
head of the house, upon his heavy, elephantine legs, and 
in a dramatic manner — probably made to seem more so 
by the tragic distortion of his limbs — related a story, 
several times emphasizing a generalization by a sweep 
of the hands toward the open world about. 

A gentle breeze crept down from the hills and swept 
its way among the pillars of this peaceful hut and 
skipped on through the palms out to sea. As far as the 
eye could reach through the village there was no sign 
of uncleanliness, no stifling enclosures, no frills to catch 
the unwary. 

The afternoon was well-nigh gone when I moved 
reluctantly away from this charmed spot. Slowly life 
was becoming more discontented with ease and bestirred 
itself to the satisfaction of wants. A few hours of toil, 
in the gathering of fruits, and one phase of tropical life 
was rounded out. It might be more pleasant to believe 
that that is the only side, but such faith is treacherous. 
The life of the average South Sea islander is as arduous 
as any. Fruits there are usually a-plenty, but they must 
be gathered and stored against famine and storm. Be 
that as it may, the open life, the things one has which 
require only wishing to make them one's own, the 
uncrampea open world, — ^by that much every man is 
millionaire in the tropics, and it is pleasant to forget 
if one can that there is exploitation, despoliation, and 
oppression as well, both of native and of alien origin. 
But for the time at least we may as well enjoy that 
which is lovely. 

That night I witnessed the usual events at the British 
Club. The substance of the evening's conversation, 
every word of which was in my own language, was quite 





foreign to me. It comprised **Dr. Funk^' and his special 
services in counteracting dengue fever. The aim and 
object of every man there seemed to be to make me drink, 
quite against my will. A visiting doctor added the 
weight of his learning to induce me to turn from heed- 
lessly falling a victim to fever by engaging *^Dr. 
Funk. ' * I was inclined to dub him * * Dr. Bunk, ' ' but why 
arouse animosity in the tropics ? there is enough of it. 

But I could n^t help contrasting in my own mind the 
little gathering on the shingle-paved floor of that corru- 
gated iron hut with the more elaborate club that changed 
its name from German to British with no little hauteur. 
More than once I wished that I had had command of the 
language of those people in the hut where allegory, mixed 
with superstition but seasoned with gentle hospitality — 
and not rum — was the order of the day. 

Weary of refusing booze and more booze, I set off 
for the shore. Though military order forbade either 
natives or Germans or any one else without a permit to 
be out after ten o'clock, I had had no difficulty in secur- 
ing a permit to roam about at will, day or night. The 
new military Inspector of Police strolled out with me 
and we took to the road that led out of Apia to the left, 
past the barracks, past the school, and the church, past 
all the crude replicas of our civilization. 

**0h, how I loathe it all!*' said Heasley to me. '*God, 
what wouldn't I give to be back with my wife and kid- 
dies! This everlasting boozing, this mingling with 
people whom I wouldn't recognize in Wellington, being 
herded with the riffraff of the world. They talk of the 
lovely maidens. Tell me, Greenbie, have you seen any 
here you 'd care to mess about with ? The tropics ! — 

I saw that I had to deal with a frightfully homesick 
man, and there was no point in running counter to him. 
The fact that to me the tropics were lovely only when 
seen as an objective thing, not as something to feel a part 


of, would have made little impression on his mind. Be 
was condemned to an indefinite sojourn, whereas I was 
foot-loose, had come of my own free will, and was going as 
soon as I had had enough of it. To him the daily round 
of drink and cheap disputes, the longing for his wife 
and kiddies, the heat, the mosquitos, the mold, the cheap 
beds and unvaried fare, the weeks during which the 
British troops had virtually camped on the beach in the 
steady downpouring tropical rains ; the inability to dream 
his way into appreciation of South Sea life ; the necessity 
of looking upon the natives as possible rebels ; suspicions 
of the few Germans there, suspicions of every new-comer, 
suspicions of even the death-dealing sun, — no wonder 
there was nothing romantic about it to him ! 

But as we wandered along, chatting in an intimate 
way, as only men gone astray from home will chat when 
they meet on the highways of the world, he seemed to 
grow more cheerful. Time and again he told me what a 
relief I was to him, how being able really to talk freely 
with me was balm to his troubled spirit. I knew that 
an hour after my departure he would forget all about me, 
that there was nothing permanent in his regard, that I 
really meant nothing to him beyond an immediate release 
for his pent-up mind, — but I felt that he was sincere. 

As we kicked our way along the dusty road we came 
to a stretch where the palm-trees stood wide apart. The 
smooth waters covered the reefs, and a million moon- 
beams danced over them. Within the palm groves camp- 
fires blazed beneath domes of moon-splattered thatch, 
and from all directions deep, clear voices quickened the 
night air. We of the Northern lands do not know what 
communal life is. We move in throngs, we crowd the 
theaters, we crowd the summer resorts, — but still we do 
not know what communal life is. We are separate icicles 
compared with the people of the tropics. Only to one 
adrift at night within a little South Sea village is the 
meaning of human commonalty revealed. It seemed to 


touch Heasley as nothing had done before. After our 
little conversation he appeared relieved and receptive. 
We wandered about till long after midnight, long after 
the village had sung itself to sleep, even then reluctant 
to take to our musty beds. 

Thus did one day pass in Samoa, and every day is like 
the other, and my tale is told. 

I tapped one man after another in Samoa for some 
personal recollections of Stevenson, but without success. 
At last I heard of an American trader who had been an 
intimate friend of R. L. S. and knew more about him 
than any other. So to him I went. He was a round- 
headed, red-faced, bald individual in the late fifties, 
deeply engrossed in the sumptuous accumulations he had 
made during more than a quarter-century of residence 
in Samoa. His reactions to my declaration of interest 
in Stevenson made me think he was turning to lock his 
safe and order his guard, but instead he really opened 
the safe and dismissed all pretense. In other words, he 
realized, it seemed to me, that he had another chance of 
adding luster not to Stevenson, but to himself. Steven- 
son he dismissed with, **Well, you know, after all he was 
just like other men. Often he was disagreeable, ill-tem- 
pered,'' etc. The thing worth while was the fact that 
he had written a book about Stevenson, in which he had 
exhausted all he knew of the man, so why did I not read 
that and not bother him about it? I felt apologetic, 
almost inclined to bow myself out, backward, when he 
announced that he too had written stories of the South 
Seas. My interest was whetted. I asked to be shown. 
He drew from among his bills and invoices a packet of 
manuscripts, and handed one to me to read. I thought of 
Setu and his enthusiasm at the recognition at sea of the 
light from Vailima, and felt that, as far as Stevenson's 
own life went, Setu was, to me at least, more important. 


Notwithstanding all the cynics who laugh at those who 
come to Samoa to climb to Stevenson's grave, I was 
determined to make the ascent. I could get no one to 
make it with me. At five o 'clock in the morning I mus- 
tered what energy I had left from the North, ready to 
spend it all for the sake of seeing Stevenson's grave. 
By six, the wind was already warm and dragged behind 
it heavy rain-clouds. Hot and brain-fagged, I pressed 
on, my body pushing listlessly forward while my mind 
battled with the temptation to turn back. Near the end 
of European Apia I turned toward the hills, into a wide 
avenue cut through the growths of shaggy palms. Sud- 
denly opening out from the main street, it as suddenly 
closes up, an oblong that dissipates in a narrow, irregu- 
lar roadway farther on. It was too overgrown to indicate 
any great usefulness, yet in the history of roads, none, 
I believe, is more unique. In the days when Samoa was 
the scene of cheap international squabbles among Eng- 
land, France, Germany, and America, Stevenson, the 
Scotsman, mindful of the fate of Scotland and of the 
similarity between his adopted and his native land, stood 
by the natives as against the foreign powers (Germany 
in particular). He took up the challenge for Mataafa, 
courageously cuddled these children while in prison, and 
won their everlasting good-will. Later, as a mark of 
gratitude, they decided voluntarily to build a wide road 
to Vailima, Stevenson's home. Their ambitions did not 
live long. The road was never finished. But this is 
indicative not of diminished gratitude, but of the over- 
whelming hopelessness of their situation in face of 
foreign pressure and native temperature. 

For everything in the tropics seems on the verge of 
exhaustion, a keen enthusiasm in life which finds its ebb 
before it has reached high tide. Only a supreme 
endeavor, a will sharper than nature, can overcome the 
spirit of non-resistance which condemns native life from 
very birth. And it was the remnant of determination 


bred in another climate that carried me on toward the 
remains of the object of that gratitude which this road 

Vailima was four miles from Apia, hidden within a 
rich tropical growth well up the mountain side. Half 
the time I rested in the shade, taking my cue from my 
idol that it was better to travel than to arrive. No one 
was about, except here and there a child in search of 
fruit dropped from the tall trees. Presently I came to 
a set of wooden buildings on the road which upon inves- 
tigation turned out to be the temporary barracks for 
the guard of Colonel Logan, commander of the forces of 
occupation. The soldiers directed me most cordially to 
a path near the barracks, and there a board sign 
announced the way to ** Stevenson 's Grave." 

Crossing a creek and turning to the right, I found 
myself immediately at the foot of Mount Vaea. At this 
juncture lay a small concrete pool obviously belonging 
to the cottage, well-preserved and clean. So was the 
path upward. Strange contrasts here, for both pool and 
path were the result of the private interest of the German 
Governor of Samoa who, despite Stevenson's bitter 
opposition to German possession of the islands, had 
generously had the path cleared and widened so that 
lovers of the great man might visit his tomb with ease. 
It had been neglected for ten years until this German 
reclaimed it. 

For a decade the grave lay untended. At the moment 
of death, the silence is deep. The pain is too fresh. Out 
of very love neglect is justifiable, for it is the train of 
dejected mourners who cannot think of niceties. But then 
come the * ' knockers at the gate, ' ' they who know nothing 
of the frailties of men and revel in an immortality that 
is memory. 

I paused frequently during that half -hour climb. Coo- 
ing doves called to one another understandingly across 
the death-like stillness which filled the valley below. 


From the direction of Apia came the sound of the lali, 
which seemed only to quicken mystery into being. I 
breathed more heavily. There, alone on the slopes of 
that peak, with the only thing that makes it memorable 
beneath the sod on the summit, I felt strangely in touch 
with the dead. The isolation gave distinction to him 
who had been laid there, which no monument, however 
superb, can give in the crowded graveyard. The per- 
sonality of the departed hovers round in the silence. 

Still, the thought of death itself is alien here. Fear is 
barren. One climbs on with an easy, smiling recognition 
of the summit of all things, — ^not as death, but as life. 
Oh, the sweet silence that muffles all ! 

A strange relapse into the ordinary came to me as I 
reached the top. I took a picture of the tomb, gazed out 
across the hazy blue world about, — and thought of noth- 
ing. I was not disappointed, nor sad. Had I found my- 
self sinking, dying, I believe that it would not have ruffled 
my emotions any more than the flight of a bird leaves 
ripples in the air. Below, five miles away, the waves 
broke upon the reefs and spread in smooth foam which 
reached endlessly toward the shore. **It is better to 
travel than to arrive/' they seemed to say to me across 
the void. 

The red hibiscus was in bloom around the tomb. A 
sweet-scented yellow flower made the air heavy with its 
rich perfume. The trees speckled the simple concrete 
casing over the grave with their restless little shadow 
leaves. The spot was cool and free from growths. And 
it was, then, a symbol of a quarter of a century made real. 

Glad did I live and gladly die 
And I laid me down with a will. 

Savage, child, romancer, literary stylist, — all have 
been under the influence of this wandering Scotsman, and 
the manner of showing him love and gratitude has been 
not in imitation only. At Monterey in California he was 
nursed by an old Frenchman through a long period of 


illness; in semi-savage Samoa men untutored in our 
codes of affection beat not a path but a road to his door, 
and carried his body up the steep slope of Mount Vaea. 
And the month before I stood beside his tomb, the ashes 
of his wife and devoted helpmate were deposited beside 
him by his stepdaughter, who had journeyed all the way 
from California to unite their remains. 

Tusitala, the tale-teller, the natives called him, and in 
the sheer music of that strange word one senses some- 
thing of the regard it was meant to convey. And in the 
years to come, when Samoans become a nation in the 
Pacific, part of the Polynesian group, Tusitala will doubt- 
less be one of the heroes, tales of whose beneficence will 
light the way for little Polynesians growing to man- 

It was becoming too hot up there on the peak for me 
before breakfast-time was over, so I slipped down into 
the valley. At the barracks the soldiers invited me to 
have a bite with them. The simple porridge, the crude 
utensils, the bare benches would elsewhere after so long 
a walk and so steep a climb have been a Godsend; but 
here, in the tropics, it seemed that more would have 
been a waste of human life. The sergeant-at-arms asked 
me if I should like to have some breadfruit. He stepped 
out into the yard and gathered a round, luscious melon- 
like fruit which, when cut, opened the doors of alimentary 
bliss to me. The trees grow in bisexual pairs, male and 
female, the female tree bearing the fruit. 

The sergeant then took me to Vailima, Stevenson's 
last home, now the residence of the governor-general. 
It was, of course, stripped of everything which once was 
Stevenson's, and had acquired wings and porticos, gaunt 
and disproportioned. I could not work up any senti- 
mental regret at this change, for that is what Stevenson 
himself would have wished. The best way to preserve 
a thing is to keep it growing. Stevenson worked here 


for four years; others may tamper with it for four 
hundred years without completely obliterating the char- 
acter given it by its first maker. 

When I entered I was somewhat surprised at the 
hangings on the walls. Pictures of the kaiser, pretty 
scenes along the Rhine, German castles, — what had they 
to do with Stevenson? what with Colonel Logan and 
British occupation? The chambers are so large and the 
woodwork is so somber that these pictures fairly shrieked 
out at one, like a flock of eagles in high altitudes. I felt 
almost guilty, myself, simply for being in the presence 
of such enemy decorations, and remarked about them to 
my guide. 

*^The colonel won^t touch them,'' he said, respectfully. 
**They are the property of the German Governor, and 
till the disposition of the islands is finally settled, the 
colonel won't move them. He 's a soldier, y' know.'' 

We came out again upon the veranda just in time to 
see Colonel and Mrs. Logan arrive in their trap. He 
was tall, straight, an icy chill of reserve in his bearing. 
Mrs. Logan was a pretty young woman, as warm and 
cordial as he was stiff. He preceded her up the steps 
and was saluted by the sergeant with the explanation of 
my presence. 

^'Am showing this gentleman round a bit," he said. 

*^Has he had a look round?" said the colonel, per- 
functorily, saluted stiffly, and passed by as though I 
didn't exist. As Mrs. Logan came up behind she sup- 
pressed a smile that threatened to make her face still 
more charming, and the two passed within. 

I smiled to myself. How should I have been received 
had Stevenson come up those steps that day? To the 
colonel there was nothing in my journey to the tomb. 
Nor was there anything in it to the soldiers at the bar- 
racks. Yet the fact that I had been there made me one 
of them. 

**How 'd ye like it?" asked a soldier on my return, 


with the same manner as though I had gone to see a 
cock-fight. ^'Blaim me if Oi ^d climb that yer 'ill on a 
day as 'ot as this to see a dead man's grave." 

They asked me if I 'd like to take a swim in the stream 
Stevenson liked so well, and on the strength of my great 
interest three of them got leave to accompany me. They 
winked to me when the sergeant agreed. We wandered 
along, jumping fences, crossing a grassy slope, and 
cutting through a spare woods. The bamboo-trees 
creaked like rusty hinges. Cocoa plantations stood ripe 
for picking. The luscious mango kept high above our 
reach, so that we were compelled to devise means of 
getting at it. The soldiers seemed concerned about 
my seeing everything, tasting everything, learning every- 
thing the place afforded. We chatted sociably, plung- 
ing about in the stream, with only a few stray natives 
looking on. Then we made our way back as leisurely 
as possible, they being in no hurry to return to the bar- 
racks. How I got back to Apia I have n't the faintest rec- 

I had set out to see the world without any definite no- 
tion of whither I was drifting. I had bartered the liquid 
sunshine of Hawaii for Fiji's humid shade, and twisted a 
day in a knot between Suva and Apia so that I hardly 
knew whether or not Fiji was more devilishly hot than 
Samoa. And then for four days I endured the stench 
of ripening bananas in the hold of a resurrected vessel 
which, if ships are feminine, as sailors seem to believe, 
was decidedly beyond the age of spinsterhood. I was 
headed for New Zealand. Little wonder, then, that when 
I found that we had finally arrived with our olfactory 
senses still sane and were about to land in a real country 
with real cities and a social life dangerously near perfec- 
tion, I felt as though I were coming to after ether. 

When I suddenly found myself alone on the street** 


of Auckland, a sense of the icy chill of reserve in civiliza- 
tion came over me. The weeks in the tropics were of 
the past. There, though the faces were more than 
strange to me and the speech quite unintelligible, there 
was a sense of human kinship which stole from man 
to man through the still air. There was the lali thump- 
ing its way across the valley; the chatter of voices by 
day, the mutter of voices by night when the people gath- 
ered beneath their thatched roofs; the gradual infusion 
of native melody with the swish of palms and the hiss 
of the sea; call answering call across the village; songs 
with that deep, primitive harmony which effects a fer- 
ment of emotion not in one ^s heart, but in the pit of the 
stomach. In such a place, the word alone has no mean- 
ing. One cannot be a stark outsider. Everything is 
done so freely and sociably that even the stranger, despite 
thousands of years of restraint in civilization, merges 
into an at-one-ment known to no group in our world. 

Social life in New Zealand (as in all white commu- 
nities) contained no such admixture. Not even on Sun- 
day, on which day I landed, did the crowds that saunt- 
ered up and down the street, present any kindred close- 
ness. People just sauntered back and forth across the 
three or four business blocks known as Queens Street. 
The sweeps and curves and windings which were its 
offshoots made a short thoroughfare look picturesque, 
but they were just flourishes. They did not lead to any- 
thing. And one immediately returned to Queens Street. 

There, the wheeled traffic having been withdrawal, the 
people leaving church flooded the wide way, coursing up 
and down in what seemed to me an utterly aimless jour- 
ney between the monument at the upper fork in the street 
and the piers at its foot. As a white man's city goes, 
in the three-story structures and spacious business 
fronts, and the massing of architecture tapering in an 
occasional turret, there was stability enough in the 
appearance of things. 


There were jolly flirtations, girls singly and in pairs, 
some mere children in short skirts, gadding about with 
eyes on young men whom they doubtless knew, and of 
whom they seemed in eternal pursuit. Groups gathered 
for political or religious argument ; platitudes and pleas- 
antries were exchanged, some interesting, some dull, sel- 
dom truly cordial. A vague suspicion one of another 
was manifest in every relationship. 

Suddenly the crowd vanished. A few persistent ones 
hung about the lower extremity of the street or lurked 
about the piers, spooning. The street became deserted. 
Not a sound from anywhere. No joyous singing under 
the eaves, no flickering lamp-lights beneath thatched 
roofs. Blinds drawn, doors locked. Sunday evening in 
civilization ! I had returned. 



THERE are no holy places in New Zealand, none of 
the worn and curious trappings of forgotten civil- 
izations to search out and to revere. There are no sign- 
posts which lead the wanderer along, despite himself, in 
search of sacred spots ; no names which make life worth 
while. Whom shall he try to see? Is there a Remain 
Rolland or a Shaw, or an Emerson to whom he could 
bow in that reverence which invites the soul rather than 
bends the knee? 

There are only boiling fountains and snow-packed 
ranges and wild-waste places to which neither man nor 
beast go willingly. Yet an unknown urge pushes one 
on, that urge which from time immemorial has impelled 
saint in search of salvation, and age in search of youth, 
as well as youth in search of adventure, to the most in- 
accessible reaches of the world. All of us bring back ac- 
counts of what we Ve seen, but which of us can answer 
why we went? 

First impressions in older countries are generally 
confusing. Ages of accumulations pile up, covered with 
the dust of centuries which has gone through innumer- 
able processes of sifting. But the stranger in the Antip- 
odes is plunged into a bath of youth. Every aspect 
of the country is young. The volcanoes are mostly 
extinct, but about them lurks the warmth of the camp 
fire just died down. In mountain, bush, and plain some- 
thing of the childhood of Mother Earth is still felt; at 
most, an adolescence, rich in possibilities. One almost 



feels that the very rivers are only the remnants of the 
receding floods after the rising of the land from beneath 
the sea. There is nothing old anywhere. Instead of 
being disappointed at the apparent paucity of man-made 
products, one is greatly surprised that so little and young 
a country should have so much. There is room, much 
room, ample acres which lie fallow, the winds of oppor- 
tunity blowing over them, wild with abandon. 

New Zealand, as I said, was a kind of resting-place. It 
was the point where the lines of interest in the native peo- 
ples of the Pacific, and those of the efforts of the white 
men, intersected, just as later I was to find a point of 
intersection between the white men and the Orientals at 
Hongkong. For here the new social life of the South 
Pacific, and the remnants of the old races of the Pacific 
equally divide the attention. 

I had some little difficulty locating Auckland from the 
steamer, so many suburbs littered the forty miles of ir- 
regular bluff which surrounds the harbor. The homes 
upon the hills seemed reserved and unambitious. There 
were no streams of smoke from factory and mill. One 
felt, at the moment of arrival, that were it morning, noon, 
or night, whatever the season, Auckland would still be 
the same, and New Zealand would continue to be proud of 
the resemblance the youngest of its cities has for its par- 
ent. All seemed quiet, restful and inactive. 

If all these were inactive, not so the human elements. 
Their rumblings on localisms were to be heard even 
before we landed. As a new-comer, I was made aware 
of Wellington, the capital, and its winds ; of the city of 
Christchurch and its plains; of prides and jealousies 
which provincial patriots acclaimed in good-natured 
playfulness. Dunedin's raininess was said to have been 
a special providence for the benefit of the Scotch who 
have isolated themselves there. The wonders of this 
place and the beauty of that broke through the mists of 
my imagination like tiny star-holes through the night. 


I had returned to civilization, and though all my 
instincts settled into an assurance which was comfort- 
ing, a feeling that dengue fever was no more, that damp 
and moldy beds and smell of copra would not again be 
mingled with my food and slumber, still, I knew I was not 
a part of it. Almost immediately my mind began mov- 
ing spiral-like, outward and upward, to escape. I was 
to do it all in a month. I was to see Auckland, with its 
neighbor, Mt. Eden, an extinct volcano; I was to visit 
the other large cities, — ^vaguely their existence was 
becoming real to me, — I was to penetrate at least some 
of New Zealand's dangerous bush, to see the primitive- 
civilized lives of the native Maories. But, strange to say, 
return to civilization had the identical effect on me that 
return to primitive life is said to have on the white man. 
It entered my being in the form of indolence. I did not 
want to move. I wanted to rest. To stay a while in 
that place, to make myself part of the life of the city, 
to remain fixed, became a burning desire with me. And 
days went by without my being able to stir myself on 

The life in the Dominion was conducive to ease and 
dreaming. Nobody seemed in any hurry about anything, 
least of all about taking you in. Every one went upon 
a way long worn down by the tread of familiar feet. The 
conflicts of pioneer aggressiveness were over. The dif- 
ferences between the aboriginal and the foreign elements 
were lost in the overpowering crowding in of the alien. 
The stone and wooden structures, the railways and the 
piers, the homes wandering along over the hills as far 
as the eye could see, completely concealed that which 
originally was New Zealand. 

I spent one month wandering up and down Auckland's 
one main street, and I can assure you it was like no 
other main street in the world, except those of every 


other city in New Zealand. There were the carts and 
the cars by day, and the clearing of the pavement of 
every vehicle for pedestrian parades by night. There 
were the carnivals and the fetes on Queens Street, and 
on every other royal highway during the summer months ; 
and during the two hours which New Zealanders require 
for lunch, there was nothing to be done but to lunch too. 
And then on Sunday nights there was the confusion of 
cults and isms each with its panacea for spiritual and 
social ills. Nobody was expected to do anything but go 
to church; hence the street cars did n't run during church 
hours, and the bathing-places were closed. And after 
ten o'clock it was as impossible to get a cup of tea out- 
side one's own home as it is to get whisky in an open 
saloon in New York to-day. 

On the Niagara I had been assured by a young lady 
from New Zealand that we Americans did n't know what 
home life was and that she would show me the genuine 
thing when I got to her little country. She did, and I 
have been most grateful to her for it. It was sober and 
clean and quiet, and I accepted with great satisfaction 
every invitation offered me, because it was a thousand 
times better than being alone on the deserted streets. 
But the good Lord was wise when He made provision for 
one Sunday a week, as His human creation could hardly 
endure it more frequently; and that is what one might 
say of New Zealand home life. It is all that is good 
and wholesome, all that is necessary for the rearing of 
unobstreperous young, but red blood should not be made 
to run like syrup, though I quite agree with my New 
Zealand friend that it should not be kept at the boiling- 
point, either. Our evenings were usually spent in quiet 
chatting on safe generalities interspersed with home 
songs and nice cocoa; and at ten o'clock we would sepa- 
rate. I hope that my New Zealand friends will not feel 
hurt at what I say. Let them put it down to my wild- 
Americanism. But home life on a Sunday evening was 


not worth going all the way diagonally across the Pacific 
to taste. 

Hence, a month in Auckland was quite enough for me. 
By that time the call of the mountains and lakes had 
come to me, and in natural beauty New Zealand can rival 
any other country of its size I have ever been to, except 
Japan. In answering that call I accepted the swagger 's 
account of how life should be lived and took to the open 
road. In the year that followed I filled my mem- 
ory with treasures that cannot be classified in any sum- 
mary. From Auckland in the North Island to Dunedin 
in the South Island I journeyed on foot through three 
long months, zigzagging my way virtually from coast to 
coast, dreaming away night after night along the great 
Waikato River, holding taut my soul in the face of the 
mysteries of the hot-springs districts, and quenching 
feverish experiences upon the shores of placid cold lakes 
and beneath snow-covered peaks of mountain ranges 
thirteen thousand feet high ; gripping my reason during 
long night tramps in the uninhabited bush (forests) 
or in Desolation Gully, forty miles from nowhere. I 
know what wild life in New Zealand is, as well as tame. 
It is not all that it used to be when men left their home 
lands for that new start in Kfe which Heaven knows 
every man is entitled to, considering what our notions 
of childhood are and the eagerness of man to pounce 
upon any one who has not reached insurmountable suc- 

In between I saw the courageous struggles these self- 
same men have gone through and are still enduring in 
order to make of the whole of New Zealand what it is 
as yet only in parts. Those parts are rich farm lands, 
with swiftly scouting motor-cars used by great capitalist- 
farmers who have more than one station to look after. 
It is a strange phenomenon of New Zealand life that 
the small farm toAvns are generally much more alert and 
progressive than the big cities. The New Zealanders 


From the belt of wild wood that girdles the city 


J. B. Series No. 205 



The pride of the Dominion 



build houses that look like transplanted suburbs from 
around New York, and bring to their villages some of 
the love of plant life that the city-dweller is soon too 
sophisticated to share. They draw out to themselves 
the moving-picture theaters, which are now the all-pos- 
sessing rage in the Dominion as elsewhere, and read the 
latest periodicals with the interest of the townsman. 
There are over a thousand newspapers in the Dominion, 
which for a population of a million is a goodly number, 
though one cannot regard this as too great an indication 
of the intellectual advancement of the people. Yet lit- 
eracy is the possession of the farmer as much as and 
frequently more than the city-dweller in New Zealand. 
His children go to school even if they have to use the 
trains to get there; free railway passes on these are 
accorded by the Government. And on the whole the 
farmer's life in New Zealand is richer than that of most 
rural communities. But the struggle is still great. I 
have seen some who do not feel that the promise is 
worth it. 

Though each of the big cities in the Dominion has its 
own special characteristics, they are all considerably 
alike. The three chief ones are all port cities of about 
80,000 inhabitants each, and except for the fact that 
Dunedin in the far south is essentially Scotch and some- 
what more stolid than the rest, and Wellington in the 
center is the capital of the Dominion and therefore sus- 
picious, one may go up and down their steep hills with- 
out any change in one's social gears. The colonial 
atmosphere is at once charming and chilling. There is 
a certain sobriety throughout which makes up for lack 
of the luxuries of modern life. But one cannot escape 
the conviction that regularity is not all that man needs. 
Everything moves along at the pace of a river at low 
level, — Abroad, spacious, serene, but without hidden places 
to explore or sparkling peaks of human achievement to 
emulate. One paddles down the stream of New Zea- 


land life without the prospect of thrills. One might he 
transported from Auckland in the north to Wellington 
or Dunedin in the south during sleep, and after waking 
set about one *s tasks without realizing that a change had 
been made. 

Every city is well lighted; good trams (trolley-cars) 
convey one in all directions, but at an excessively high 
fare; the water and sewerage systems are never com- 
plained of; the theaters are good and the shops full of 
things from England and America. There are even many 
fine motor-cars. But there are few signs of great wealth, 
though comparatively big fortunes are not unknown. It 
is rumored that ostentation is never indulged in, as the 
attitude of the people as a whole is averse to it. 

On the other hand, neither are there any signs of 
extreme poverty, though it exists; and slums to harbor 
it. While the usual evils of social life obtain, the small 
community life makes it impossible for them to become 
rampant. Every one knows every one else and that 
which is taboo, if indulged in, must be carried out with 
such extreme secrecy as to make it impossible for any 
blemish to appear upon the face of things. 

In these circumstances, one is immediately classified 
and accepted or rejected, according as one is or is not 
acceptable. Having recognized certain outstanding fea- 
tures of the gentleman in you, the New Zealander is 
Briton enough to accept you without further ado. There 
is in a sense a certain naivete in his measurement of the 
stranger. He is frank in questioning your position and 
your integrity, but shrinks from carrying his suspicions 
too far. He will ask you bluntly: ^'Are you what you 
say you are T ' * * Of course I am, ' ' you say. * ^ Then come 
along, mate.'' But he does not take you very far, not 
because he is niggardly, but because he is thrifty. 

As a result of this New Zealand spirit I found myself 
befriended from one end of New Zealand to the other 
by a single family, the elder brother having given me 


letters of introduction to every one of his kin, — ^in Hamil- 
ton, Palmerston North, Wellington, Christchurch, and 
Dunedin. And with but two or three exceptions I have al- 
ways found New Zealanders generous and open-hearted. 
Wherever I went, once I broke through a certain shyness 
and reserve, I found myself part of the group, though 
generally I did not remain long, because I felt that new 
sensations could not be expected. 

My one great difficulty was in keeping from falling in 
love with the New Zealand girls. Rosy-cheeked, sturdy, 
silently game and rebellious, they know what it is to be 
flirtatious. For them there is seldom any other way 
out of their loneliness. Only here and there do parents 
think it necessary to give their daughters any social life 
outside the home. In these days of the movies, New 
Zealand girls are breaking away from knitting and home 
ties. But even then few girls care to preside at repre- 
sentations of others ' love-affairs without the opportunity 
of going home and practising, themselves. Hence the 
streets are filled with flirtatious maidens strolling four 
abreast, hoping for a chance to break into the couples 
and quartets of young men who choose their own manly 
society in preference to that of expensive girls. I have 
seen these groups pass one another, up and down the 
streets, frequent the tea-houses and soda fountains, carry 
on their flirtations from separate tables, pay for their 
own refreshments or their own theater tickets ; but real 
commingling of the sexes in public life is not pronounced. 

At the beaches! That is different. There the dunes 
and bracken are alive with couples all hours of the day 
or night during the holiday and summer seasons. 
Thence emerge engagements and hasty marriages, nor 
can parental watchfulness guard against it. 


The most difficult thing in all my New Zealand ex- 
periences was to reconcile the latent conservatism of the 


people with their outstanding progressivness. It would 
be easy to assert without much fear of contradiction that 
notwithstanding all the talk of radicalism in the matter 
of labor legislation there is little of it in practice in the 
Dominion. The reason for this is twofold. First, New 
Zealand, unlike Australia and America, was not a rebel- 
lious offshoot of England, not a protest against Old- 
World curtailment. Quite the contrary, it was made 
in the image of the mother country, and natural selection 
for the time being was dormant. Furthermore, it was 
simple for labor to dominate in a country where labor 
was to be had only at that premium. 

Nowhere in the whole Dominion did I come across con- 
crete evidence of awakened consciousness on the part 
of the masses to their opportunities. None of that fever- 
ish haste to raise monuments of achievement to accom- 
pany the legislative enactments which have given New 
Zealand an illustrious place among the nations. True, 
the country is young; true, there are not enough people 
there to pile creation on creation. But that is not it. It 
is that they are not keyed up to any great notions of what 
they ought to expect of themselves, but are content with 
what freedom and leisure of life they possess. 

Throughout the length and breadth of the two islands, 
islands more than two thirds the size of Japan, there 
isn't an outstanding structure of any great architectural 
value; there is n't a statue or a monument of artistic im- 
portance ; there is hardly a painting of exceptional qual- 
ity ; nor, with all the remarkable beauty of nature which is 
New Zealand's, is there any poetic outpouring of love 
of nature that one would expect from a people heirs to 
some of the finest poetry in the world. Even British 
India has its Kipling and its Tagore. With all the ex- 
cellence of their efforts to solve the problem of the wel- 
fare of the masses. New Zealanders show no excessive 
largeness of heart in the sort of welcome they extend to 
labor of other lands. Here, it would seem, is a land 


where the world may well be reborn, where there is 
every opportunity for the correction of age-long wrongs 
that have become too much a part of Europe for Euro- 
peans to resent them too heartily. Yet what is New 
Zealand doing and what has it done in seventy-five years 
to approximate Utopia? 

This is not meant as a criticism of New Zealand ; rather 
is it meant to let New Zealand know that the eyes of the 
world are upon it and expect much from it. Possession 
may be nine points of the law ; but the utilization of op- 
portunity which possession entails is the tenth point 
toward the retention of that which one has. 

Babies are cared for better in New Zealand than any 
other place in the world, yet boys and girls still receive 
that antiquated form of correction, corporal punishment, 
and thought of letting the youth find his own salvation, 
with guidance only, not coercion, is still alien to the New 
Zealand pedagogic mind. Women have had the vote for 
over twenty-five years, but the freedom of woman to seek 
her own development, to become a factor in the social 
life of the community apart from the man's, is still a 
neglected dream. And young women are dying of ennui 
because they aren't given enough to do. The country 
is fairly rich, with its enormous droves of sheep, great 
pastures full of cattle, its cooperative capitalistic farm- 
ing-schemes ; but the human genius for beauty and self- 
expression must find opportunity in Britain or America. 
And even the old romance of pioneer life is virtually of 
the past. In all my wanderings I came across only one 
home that made me throw out my emotional chest to 
contain the spirit of the pioneer life of which we all love 
to hear. It was a house as rough as it was old, laden 
with shelving and hung with guns, horns, and litho- 
graphs, and cheered by a blazing open fire, — an early 
virility New Zealand has now completely outgrown. 
The house must have been fifty years old, to judge from 
the Scotsman living there. He was keen, alert, and 


quick, a most interesting opponent in discussion, most 
firm in his beliefs without being offensive. Here, in 
the very heart of one of the earliest of New Zealand ^s 
settlement districts in the South Island, he lived with 
his family; and something of the old sweetness of life, 
the atmosphere of successful conquest, obtained. And 
ever as I dug down into New Zealand ^s past, I found it 
charming. The present is too steeped in cheap machine 
processes to be either durable or really satisfying. 

Discouraging as this may sound, he who has lived in 
the little Dominion and has learned to love its people and 
their ways, hastens to contradict his own charges. For 
in time, as one becomes better acquainted, one finds a 
healthy discontent brewing beneath that apathetic ex- 
terior. Just as the Chinese will do anything to **save 
face'' so the Briton will do anything not to ^^lose face." 
He loses much of his latent charm in so restricting him- 
self, but when assured that a new convention is afoot 
and that it is safe for him to venture forth with it, he 
will do so with a zest that is itself worth much. 

Furthermore, there is in the atmosphere of staid New 
Zealand life a passion for the out-of-doors which is worth 
more than all the Greenwich Village sentiment twice 
over. Girls are always just as happy in the open and 
more interesting than when indulging in cigarettes and 
exposing shapely legs in intellectual parlors. Given 
twenty million people instead of one New Zealand would 
blossom forth into one of the loveliest flowers of the 

In the Auckland (New Zealand) Art Gallery hangs 
a picture representing the coming of the Maories to 
New Zealand. Their long canoe is filled with emaciated 
people vividly suggesting the suffering and privation 
they must have undergone in coming across the main- 
land some four hundred years ago. Venturing with- 


out sail or compass, these daring Polynesians must have 
possessed intrepid and courageous natures. 

Yet at the time I was in that gallery the place was full 
of stifled boyish laughter. A half-dozen little tots, with 
spectacles and school-bags, one with blazing red hair, 
had come to see the pictures. They were not Maori 
children, but the offspring of the white race, which less 
than a hundred years ago came in their sailing-vessels 
and steamers, with powder and lead, and took with com- 
parative ease a land won by such daring travail. 

I had heard much of these natives, — idyllic tales of 
their charm and the lure of their maidens. Those lovely 
Maori girls! I expected to see them crowding the 
streets of Auckland. But they were conspicuous by 
their absence. Occasionally a few could be seen squat- 
ting on the sidewalks, more strangers to the city than I, 
more outstanding from the display of color and manner 
which thronged Queens Street than any American could 
be in so ultra a British community as dominates New 
Zealand. Where are the Maories! I wondered. Upon 
their ** reservations'' like our own Amerinds, or lost to 
their own costumes and even to their own blood and color? 

I had returned to Auckland from a visit with a friend 
whose wife was Maori, in the company of her nephew. 
He carried with him a basket of eels as a gift to his 
mother, and walked up the street with me. At a corner 
he was hailed by a dark-skinned man in a well-cut busi- 
ness suit, and said, *' There is my father. I must leave 
you. ' ' In another moment he was in a large touring car 
and was whizzed away by his Maori father at the wheel. 
No wonder I hadn't been able to see any Maories. 

I visited a school where Maori boys are being encour- 
aged to artificial exercises, — sports, hurdle-jumping, 
running. I watched them make ready, eager for the 
petty prizes offered. Off went their shoes, out went their 
chests, expanded with ancestral joy. In their bare feet, 
still as tough as in former days before they were in- 


duced to buy cowhides, they skipped over the ground, 
filled for the moment with the glory of being alive. Their 
faces broke out in fantastic, native grimaces and con- 
tortions as though an imaginary enemy confronted them. 
But alas, they were seeking him in the wrong direction ! 
The enemy comes with no spears, and no clang, but he 
is more deadly. He is not without but within. He makes 
them cough. They fall behind. 

^'They do not last long,'* said the Briton who was in- 
structing them. ^^They are dying rapidly of consump- 
tion. As long as we keep them here in school they are 
all right. Finer specimens of human physique could not 
be found anywhere. But as soon as they return to their 
pas, and live in the squalor of the native villages, they 
return to all the old methods of life and soon go under." 

I set out on my tramp through New Zealand. At 
Bombey, a few days' jaunt from Auckland, I met an 
old settler, whose accounts of the great and last war of 
the redcoats with the fierce fighters of Maoriland dated 
back to our own Civil War, 1861-64. Until that time 
both Maories and Britons said, with few exceptions, 
'*Our races cannot mix. One or the other of us must 
give away.'' Naturally, the Maories had the prior 
claim, but they finally yielded, surrendering their lands 
to the aliens at Ngaruawahia, **The Meeting of the 
Waters," that little hamlet lying in the crotch between 
the beautiful Waikato River and one of its tributaries. 
And henceforward, the two races were constrained to 
meet, and rush down together into that green sea of 
human commonalty, albeit one of them contributes the 
dominant volume. 

Maori legend has it that the Maories are the descend- 
ants of the great Rangatira (chief) who was the off- 
spring of a similarly great Tanewa (shark). He was 
bom in the dark southern caves of the Tongariro Moun- 
tains, and the spirits of their ancestors have always 
dwelt along the broad Waikato^ Along this river I wan- 


dered for many days, but I found few of the Rangatira's 
descendants. If one is quiet and alone the voice of the 
great Tanewa will call softly through the marsh rushes 
from out of the heart of the quivering flax. It is peace- 
ful and encompassing, modest and almost afraid. I 
heard it and I am sure those Maories hear it who are 
not too engrossed in the scramble after foreign trinkets. 
It said : * * The last mortal or man descendant of mine will 
be the offspring of a Pakeha-Maori (a white man who 
lives among the Maories) who will live in the cities and 
rush about in motor-cars, but I shall remain in the 
marshes, the calm rivers, and near the glittering leaves 
of flax.'' 

A few miles farther on I came to Huntley, and hearing 
that there was a native village across the Waikato River, 
I turned thither by way of the bridge. I overtook two 
wahineSy slovenly, indolent, careless in their manners. 
They spoke to me flippantly. They wanted to know if I 
was bound for the missionaries ' place. This led to ques- 
tions from me : Why were they turning Mormon? Which 
sect did they prefer? But I could obtain answers only 
by innuendo. I left these two women behind and found 
three others chasing a pig in an open field, three boys 
bathing a horse in the deep river. All about the village 
was strewn refuse ; vicious dogs slunk hungrily about, — 
neglect, neglect, on every hand. But instead of flimsy 
native huts there were wooden shacks with corrugated 
iron roofs, the longer to remain unregenerate, breeders 
of disease and wasters of human energy. 

But the more elaborate native village at Rotorua, at 
the other end of the island, where visitors are frequent, 
was more up-to-date and cleaner. And on a little knoll 
was a model of an old Maori pah, such as was used in 
the days before guns made it possible to fight in ambush 
and in the valleys, and brought the sturdy savages down 
not only from their more wholesome heights but from 
their position of vantage as a race. 


Here I met an odd sort of article in the way of human 
ware. Only seventeen, he was twice my size, and lazy 
and pliable in proportion. He would come into my 
room and just stay. With a steady, piercing, yet stolid 
and almost epileptic stare, cunning, yet not shrewd, not 
steady, nor guided by any evident train of thought, he 
would watch me write. I was a mystery to him, and he 
frankly doubted the truth of things I told him. 

First he said I had the build of a prize-fighter; then, 
perhaps on thinking it over, he doubted that I had ever 
done any hard work in my life. As to himself, he said 
he loved to break in wild horses. His father, according 
to one tale, was wealthy; two of his brothers were engi- 
neers on boats. But he hated study. He was altogether 
lacking in any notion of time, but he was not lazy. He 
was even ready to do work that was not his to do. 

One afternoon he was in a most jovial mood. He was 
about to have a tent raised in which he would spend the 
summer, instead of the hotel room allotted to the help. 
He was full of glee at the prospect. Primitive instincts 
seemed to waken in him. But there was a sudden reac- 
tion, — ^whimsical. We had stepped upon the lawn which 
afforded an open view across Lake Rotorua. 

^* Strange, isn't it,'' he said without any preamble, 
*^how money goes from one man to another, from here 
to Auckland and to Sydney? So much money." He be- 
came reminiscent : * ^ Maories did n 't know a thing about 
money. They were rich. See, across this lake, — that 
little island, — the whole was once a battle-field. The 
Maories went out in their canoes and fought with their 
battle-axes. What for? Oh, to gain lands. But now 
they are poor. Things are so dead here now. Nothing 
doing. ' ' A moment later he was called and disappeared. 
It was the only time he was ever communicative. The 
tent had roused in him racial regrets. 

One evening he came up to my door and told me there 
was a dance at the hall, and that he was going to it. 


Again that strange revival of racial memories, but these 
of hope and prospect, came into his face, *^I 'm going to 
take my Hart' (girl) with me,'' he announced. And later 
in the evening, as I sat alone, watching the moon rise over 
the lake, the laughter of those Maories rang out across 
the hills. 

Though I wandered for many miles, running into the 
hundreds, the number of Maori villages and people I 
came across were few and far between. Yet records 
show that once these regions were alive with more than 
a hundred thousand fighting natives. At Rotorua, the 
hot-springs district in the North Island, the pah was in 
exceptionally good condition, but it was so largely be- 
cause the New Zealand Government has made of the 
place one of its most attractive tourist resorts and the 
natives are permitted to exact a tax from every visitor 
who wishes to see the geysers. Elsewhere the villages 
are dull, dreary, and neglected: the farther away from 
civilization, the worse they get. The consequence is not 

According to the census of 1896, there were 39,854 peo- 
ple of the Maori race : 21,673 males, 18,181 females, of 
which 3,503 were half-castes who lived as Maories, and 
229 Maori women married to Europeans. The Maori 
population fell from 41,993 in 1891 to 39,854 in 1896, a 
decrease in five years of 2,139. But in 1901 it had risen 
to 43,143, going steadily up to 49,844 in 1911, and drop- 
ping to 49,776 in 1916 on account of the European war. 

There was considerable discussion in the New Zealand 
Parliament on the question of whether the Maories should 
be included in the Draft Act, most white men declaring 
that a race which was dying, despite this seeming in- 
crease, should not be taxed for its sturdiest young men 
in a war that was in truth none of its concern. But the 
Maories — that is, their representatives — objected, say- 
ing they did not wish to be discriminated against. 
Among the young men, however, I found not a few who 


were inclined to reason otherwise. So it was that while 
I was talking to the young fellows who were washing 
their horse in the Waikato, one of them said to me : 

^'Yes. Years ago the white men came to us with 
guns and cannon and powder and compelled us to give 
up our warfare, which kept us in good condition indi- 
vidually and as a race. We put aside our weapons. 
Now they come to us and tell us we must go to Europe 
and fight for them." And he became silent and thought- 

As I came back into Huntly from my visit to the pah I 
passed the little court-house, before which was a crowd 
of Maories. Some of the wahmes sat with shawls over 
their heads smoking their pipes as though they were in 
trousers, not skirts. I chatted wih the British Bobby 
who stood at the door, asking him what was bestirring 
Maoriland so much. 

' * Oh, that bally old king of theirs has been subpoenaed 
to answer for his brother. The blighter has been keep- 
ing him out of sight so that he won't be taken in the 

* * But, ' ' I protested — democrat though I was, my heart 
went out to the old *^ monarch" — *' can't the king get his 
brother, the archduke and possible successor to the 
throne, out of performing a task that might hazard the 
foundation of the imperial line?" 

*^King be damned! Wait till we get the blighter in 
here," said the servant of the law, pressing his heels 
into the soft, oozy tar pavement as he turned scornfully 
from me. 

A few days later I was cutting my way through a lux- 
uriant mountain forest above Te Horoto in the North 
Island, listening to the melodious tui, the bell-bird, and 
to the song of the parson-bird in his black frock of 
feathers with a small tuft of white under his beak, like 


the reversed collar of a cleric. No sound of bird in any 
of the many countries I have been to has ever filled me 
with greater rapture than did this. There are thou- 
sands of skylarks in New Zealand, brought from Eng- 
land, but had Shelley heard the tui he might have written 
an ode more beautiful even than that to the ^'blithe 
spirit'^ he has immortalized. Yet, like the human na- 
tives, these feathery folk have vastly decreased since the 
coming of the white man. No wonder Pehi Hetan Turoa, 
great chief of a far country on the other side of the 
island, in complaining of the decay of his race, said: 
* ' Formerly, when we went into a forest, and stood under 
a tree, we could not hear ourselves speak for the noise 
of the birds — every tree was full of them. . . . Now, 
many of the birds have died out.'' 

Enraptured with the loveliness of the native bush and 
the clear, sweet air, I pressed up the mountain side with 
great strides. Presently I passed a simple Maori habi- 
tation. It was about noon. Seeing smoke rise out of an 
opening in the roof, indicating that the owners were at 
home, I entered the yard. My eyes, full of the bright, 
clear sunlight, could not discern any living thing as I 
poked my head in at the door, but I could hear a voice 
bidding me enter. I stepped into a sort of antechamber, 
a large section of the hut with a floor of beaten earth and 
a single pillar slightly off the center supporting the roof. 
Gradually, as my eyes became accustomed to the subdued 
light, I saw an aged couple within a small alcove on the 
farther side. An open fire crackled in the center of its 
floor. The old woman sitting on her bed-space, was 
bending over the flame, fanning it to life. The old man, 
who was very tall, lay on a mat-bed to the right, his 
legs stretched in my direction. The two beds, the fire, 
and the old couple took up the entire space of the alcove, 
— a sort of kitchenette-bedroom affair like our modern 
** studio" apartments. 

** Where are you from?" asked the old man, after I 


had seated myself before the fire. * ^ America, ' ' I said. 
My reply evoked no great surprise in him. 

**The village is quiet/' I said. ** Where are the peo- 

*'0h, down in the valley, working in the fields.'' 

** Don't you go out, too?" I asked. 

*'0h, I 'm too old now. My legs ache with rheuma- 
tism. I go no more. Let the young fellows work. Stay 
and have tea with us," he urged. 

I looked at their stock. They did not seem to have 
any too much themselves, and the old woman seemed a 
little worried. I knew that the heart of the hostess was 
the same the world over, so I assured them I had had 
my meal, and only wished to rest a while away from the 
sun. The old woman showed relief. 

We chatted as cordially as it is possible where tongues 
cannot fully make themselves understood. I learned 
that the man was an old chief. He could not fall in with 
the times, acknowledged his inability to direct the af- 
fairs of this strange world, and only asked for rest and 
quiet, and the respect due one of his position. He did 
not expect to live long, nor did he much care. *^ These 
are not days for me," he said with a smile. He did not 
speak of the former glories of his race. Doubtless he 
could not exactly make up his mind whether to look be- 
fore or after : if there were great chiefs before, are there 
not big M.P's now? 

The fire was burning low, and I knew that the old 
woman would have to go for more wood unless she hur- 
ried with the preparation of her meal, and that as long as 
I was there I was delaying her. So I rose to go. The 
old man excused himself for not rising by pointing to 
his lame legs. She saw me to the gate, and as I struck 
down the road she waved her hand after me in farewell, 
and remained behind the screen of trees round which I 

Down in the valley lying almost precipitately below 


me were a number of natives working in their fields ; but 
my road led me on to the cities, and it is there that the 
future of this race hangs in the balance. 

Some months later, while I was living in Dunedin in 
the far south of the South Island, the newspapers came 
out in a way almost American, so exciting was the bit of 
news. The editorial world forgot all decorum and dig- 
nity and pulled out the largest type it had on hand. It 
was announced that the Maori priest, Rua, was caught. 
Several persons were wounded and one, I believe, was 
killed in the process. The priest was treated with no 
respect and little consideration and thrown into prison, — 
all because he believed in having several wives as his 
men-folk always had, if they were chiefs and priests, 
and was trying to put a little life into his race, trying 
to stir it up to casting out these ^^foreign devils." He 
had built himself a temple that was an interesting work 
of art, but it holds worshipers no more, even though the 
priest has since been released. His efforts to rouse his 
people failed. Such efforts are only the reflex action 
of a dying race. 



The Second Side of The Triangle 

Dark is the way of the Eternal as mirrored in this world of Time; 
God's "way is in the sea, and His path in the great deep. — Carlyle. 

MORE than a year went by before I began drawing 
in the radial thread that held me suspended from 
the North Star under the Southern Cross, — a year 
replete with lone wanderings and searching reflections. 
During all those months not a single day had passed 
without my surveying in my mind's eye the reaches of 
the Pacific that lay between me and the Orient. Round- 
about New Zealand I had become familiar with the Tas- 
man Sea looking toward Australia, on the shores of which 
I had spent some of the most mysterious nights of my 
life ; on Hawkes Bay looking out toward South America ; 
and across the surging waters of Otago Harbor at Dune- 
din, looking in the direction of the frozen reaches of 

Once staid Dunedin was thrilled by a wireless S.O.S. 
from the direction of the South Pole. The Aurora, 
Shackleton's ship which had gone dowTi to the polar 
regions, was calling for help. She had snapped the 
cables which tied her to land when the ice-packs gave way 
and had drifted out to sea. Fortunately, most of the 
officers and crew were at the moment on board, but six- 
teen men were left marooned. To add to the prospect of 
tragedy, the ice smashed the rudder, and a jury-rudder, 
worked by hand from the stem deck, had to be impro- 
vised. With these handicaps the vessel made her way 


Just arrived at Port Chalmers, N. Z., from the South Pole 



A whirl of pleasure-seeking and business 


At Botany Bay, Australia 


slowly till within ^ve hundred miles of New Zealand, the 
reach of her wireless. Here she was rescued hy a Dune- 
din tug and brought to Port Chalmers. 

I made friends with the mate and the chief engineer 
and gained access to their superb collection of Emperor 
Penguin skins and an unusual number of photographs. 
Months afterward they wanted four men to complete the 
crew necessary for another journey south and I was 
tempted to join them, but tallow and bladder and a 
repressed pen were the negatives, while China and Japan 
were the positives. So I sailed away with the rising sun 
in the direction of the great West that is the Far East. 
Crisp and clear in the bright morning air shone the tow- 
ering peaks of the New Zealand Alps as I sailed toward 
Australia and to Botany Bay, — ^not, however, without 
being nearly wrecked in the fog which had gathered in 
Foveaux Strait, which separates Steward Island from 
the South Island in New Zealand. Bluff, the last little 
town in New Zealand, is said to have the most southerly 
hotel in the world. I saw it. 

Four days from Bluff to Melbourne on a sea that 
seemed on the verge of congealing into ice. It was not 
cold, yet autumn-like. And the passengers seemed the 
fallen leaves. The stewards maintained the reputation 
for impudence and unmannerliness of the Union Steam- 
ship Company crews, but I had grown used to that, and 
thanked my stars that this was the last coupon in the 
ticket I had purchased in Honolulu more than a year be- 
fore. Of human incidents there was therefore none to 

But chill and melancholy as that Southern sea was, 
there hovered over it a creature whose call upon one's 
interest was more than compensating. Swooping with 
giant wings in careless ease, the albatross followed us 


day in and day out. Always on the wing, awake or 
asleep, in sunshine or in storm, the air his home as the 
water is to fish, and earth to mammal. Even the ship 
was no lure for him by way of support. He followed it, 
accepted whatever was thrown from it, but as for depen- 
dence upon it, — ^no such weakness, you may be sure. His 
sixteen feet of wing-spread moved like a ship upon the 
waves, like a combination of a ship and sails. Swift, 
huge, glorious, unconsciously majestic, he is indeed a 
bird of good omen. How he floats with never a sign of 
effort! How he glides atop the waves, skims them, yet 
is never reached by their flame-like leapings; simulates 
their motion without the exhaustion into which they sink 

The albatross had left us, and now the swarming 
is his artistry, so refined his ^' table manners.'' He does 
not gorge himself as does the sea-gull, nor is he ever 
heard to screech that selfish, hungry, insatiable screech. 
Silent, sadly voiceless, rhythmic and s}Tnbolic without 
being restrained by pride of art, he exemplifies right 
living. He is our link between shores, the one dream of 
reality on an ocean of opiate loveliness wherein there is 
little of earth's confusion and pain. For the traveler 
he keeps the balance between the deadly stability of land 
life and the dream-like mystery of the sea. But for him 
it were impossible to come so easily out of an experience 
of a long voyage. Away down there he is the only 
reminder of reality. Which explains the reverence 
sailors have for him and their superstitious dread of 
killing him. It is like the dread of the physician that 
his knife may too sharply stir the numbed senses of his 
patient under anaesthesia. 

Land may be said to begin where the albatross is seen 
to depart. He knows, and off he swoops, ship or no ship 
to follow and to guide; back over the thousand miles of 
watery waste, to measure the infinite with his sixteen-foot 
wings, glide by glide, with the speed of a twin-screw tur- 


bine. Only when the female enters the breeding season 
does she seek out a lost island to rear her young. Inde- 
pendent of the sea, these birds are utterly confined to it, 
a mystery floating within mystery. 

The albatross have left us, and now the swarming 
gulls abound. Why they are dignified with the Christian 
name ^'Sea'' when they are such homely land-lubbers, 
is a question that I cannot answer. Pilots, rather, they 
come to see us into the harbor, or, with their harsh 
screeching, to frighten us away. 

But something within me would not know Australia, 
nor any lands, just then. Perhaps it was that my un- 
conscious self was still with the albatross ; for strange as 
it may seem I could not sense any forward direction at 
all that day, but only one that pointed backward, — toward 
home. Try as I would to realize myself on my way to 
Australia, still my mind persisted in pointing toward 
America. Not until we got the first sight of land ahead 
was my soul set right. Then it was the Sister Islands, 
Wilson's Promontory, the Bass Straits, with Tasmania 
barely in sight. Cape Liptrap, and finally Port Phillip. 
And Australia was on all fours, veiled in blue, — a thin 
ruid of earth steeped in summer splendor. 

Flag signals were exchanged with the lonely pilot-ship 
that hung about the entrance. All being well, we passed 
on, crossing that point at the entrance where five strong 
water-currents meet and vanquish one another, turning 
into a smooth, glassy coat of treachery. The Wimmera 
hugged the right shore of the largest harbor I have ever 
seen. In places the other shore could not be seen with 
the naked eye. But it is very shallow and innumerable 
lights float in double file to guard all ships from being 

Just as we entered, the sun set. A stream of color 
unconstrained obliterated all detail as it poured over 
the point of the harbor, filling the spacious port. Clots 
of amber and orange gathered and were dissipated, sof- 


tened, diffused, till slowly all died down and were gone. 
Darkness and the blinking lights of the buoys remained. 
Two big ships, brilliantly lighted, flinging their manes 
of smoke to the winds, passed, one on its way to Sydney, 
the other to Tasmania and Adelaide in the south. Far 
in the distance ahead we could see the string of shore 
lights at Port Williamson. It took us three hours to 
overtake them, and we arrived too late to receive prat- 
ique. For half an hour the captain and the customs 
carried on a conversation with blinking lights. The 
winches suddenly began their rasping sound, and the 
anchor dropped to the bottom. We did not debark that 


I spent nearly six months in Melbourne and Sydney, 
those two eastern eyes of that wild old continent, and 
for the first time in a twelvemonth the sense of security 
from the sea obtained. For a fortnight I occupied a 
little shack on Manly Beach, near Sydney, but oh, how 
different it was there from the sand-dunes on the shores 
at Dunedin, in New Zealand ! In the Dominion one had 
to hide within the interior to get away from the sea: 
on the beach one felt about to slip into Neptune's maw. 
But at Manly, Bondi, Botany Bay, the sea might ham- 
mer away for another eternity without putting a land- 
lubber off his ease. 

But we shall return to Australia in another section. 
The sea is still much in the blood, there is still a vast 
length that lies close to Asia and marks off another line 
of our imaginary triangle. Here are no landless reaches, 
but all the way to Japan one passes strip after strip, as 
though some giant earthquake had shattered part of the 

Months afterward I took passage once more, this time 
on the Eas\tern, bound for Japan. 

There was no mistaking the side of the world I was 


on and the direction of my journey from the moment I 
stepped upon the pier to which the Eastern was made 
fast. Hundreds of Chinese, with thousands of boxes and 
bundles, scurried to and fro in an ant-like attention to 
little details. Then as the steamer was about to depart, 
mobilization for the counting of noses took place, and 
veritable regiments of emaciated yellow men lined the 
decks. Here and there a fat, successful-looking Chinese 
moved round the crowd, an altogether different-looking 
species, more as one who lives on them than as one who 
lives with them. On the dock stood several groups wait- 
ing to wave farewell to their Oriental kin. One of these 
groups was composed of a stout white woman with two 
very pretty Eurasian daughters, — as handsome a pair of 
girls as I saw in Australia. Their father was a well-to-do 
Chinese merchant taking one of his regular trips to China. 
In Australian fashion they were ready for a mild flirta- 
tion, spoke Australian English with Australian slang, 
and, aside from their pater, they were native to all in- 
tents and purposes. And in Australia they remained. 

Of those who departed, the major number likewise 
remained native — though to China — despite years and 
years of residence in Australia. It is a one-sided argu- 
ment to maintain that because of that the Chinese are 
unassimilable. There is no ground for such a deduction, 
because they arrived mainly after maturity, and the 
Chinese could challenge any white man to become one of 
them after he has fully acquired his habits and preju- 
dices. But we had not been many minutes at sea before 
it was our misfortune to find that we had among us a 
Chinese boy who was born and brought up in New Zea- 
land and was just then going to China for the first time. 
Here I had ample opportunity of observing the assimila- 
bility of the Oriental. And here I bow before the 

He had assimilated every obnoxious characteristic of 
our civilization, the passion for slang, the impertinence, 


the false pride, the bluff which is the basis of Western 
crowd psychology. He was not a Chinese, — that he 
denied most vehemently, — he was a New Zealander, and 
by virtue of his birth he assumed the right to impose 
his boyish larrikinism upon all the ship^s unfortunate 
passengers. He banged the piano morning, noon, and 
night; he affected long, straight black hair, which was 
constantly getting in his way and being brushed care- 
fully back over his head ; and he took great pains to make 
himself as generally obnoxious as possible. He was not 
that serious, struggling Chinese student who comes to 
America afire with hope for the regeneration of his race. 
He was a New Zealander, knew no other affiliations, had 
no aspirations, and lorded it over *Hhose Chineee'' who 
occupied every bit of available space on the steamer. 

In his way he was also a Don Juan, for he hovered over 
the young half -Australian wife of a middle-aged Chinese 
merchant who was taking her back to China for her con- 
finement. She was morose, sullen, as unhappy a spirit 
as I have seen in an Oriental body. Obviously, China 
held few fine prospects for her. She was seldom seen in 
her husband ^s company, for he was generally below play- 
ing fan-tan or gambling in some other fashion. And the 
Australian half of her was longing for home. It seemed 
to devolve upon our young Don Juan to court this un- 
happy creature, and court her he did. But she had no 
resilience, no flash, her Chinese half-self offering him as 
little reward for his pains as a cow would offer the sun 
for a brilliant setting. 

I expected any hour of the day to see that woman throw 
herself into the sea, or that husband stick a knife into 
the bold, bad boy, but nothing happened; the husband 
and the wife were seemingly oblivious of the love-making, 
and all went well. 

Besides the Chinese crew and passengers there were 
perhaps a dozen white people, including the officers. An 
old English army captain whose passport confirmed his 


declaration that he was seventy-three years old, was tak- 
ing- a little run up to Japan. His only reason was that 
Japan was an ally, hence he wanted to see it. Such is 
the nature of British provincialism. Otherwise, there 
were but two or three young Australians bound for 
Townsville, and the stewardess. Somewhere along the 
coast we picked up a Russian peasant, who with his wife 
had been induced to emigrate to Australia, but who was 
now going home to enlist. As though there were n 't al- 
ready enough men in Russia armed with sticks and stones ! 
At still another port we commandeered a veritable regi- 
ment of Australian children, colloquially called larrikins. 
These were bound for the Philippines, where their father 
had preceded them some months before. Their exploits 
deserve an exclusive paragraph. 

Suddenly, out of a clear sky, there would be a shriek 
like the howl of a dingo on the Australian plains. There 
would be a rush to the defenses by an excited female, — 
the mother. There would follow such a slapping as 
would delight the English Corporal Correction League, 
except that it was n 't done cold-bloodedly enough. And 
thereafter for half an hour there was bedlam all around. 
After exhaustion, a new series of pranks set in. This 
time they were playing a *' back-blocks ' ' game which 
entailed a hanging. One of them needs must be hanged, 
and was rescued just in time by an ever-swooping mother. 
After hours of hunger-stimulating escapades pn deck, 
the dinner-bell sent them scurrying down into the saloon. 
Before any of us had time to be seated all the fruit on 
the table was divided according to the best principles of 
individual enterprise. Beginning with the first thing on 
the menu, they went down the sheet, leaving nothing 
untasted ; nor did it matter much whether it was break- 
fast or dinner, — steak enough for a meal in itself com- 
prised the entree. And the littlest kept pace with the 
biggest. Nor did afternoon and morning tea escape 


them. Fully stoked up, they were ready for another 
beating and another hanging on deck. 

In contrast were the little Chinese children, — quiet, 
shy, never spanked; and though they put away enough 
within their Oriental bread-baskets, one never saw that 
same wild struggle for existence which told the tale of 
life on an Australian station better than anything I 
wot of. 

We had now reached Brisbane, 519 miles from Sydney, 
a distance which took the Eastern from noon of the 
8th to sunrise of the 10th of October to negotiate. And 
from the outer channel to the docks on the Brisbane River 
we steamed till half-past one in the afternoon. Here we 
were ^'beached'' in the mud when the tide went out and 
had to wait twenty-four hours before floating out again. 
In the meantime we picked up two more gems, — mature 
larrikin this time. One of them was so drunk he could n^t 
see straight, the other was sober enough to bring him 
on board. Unfortunately for me, they were placed in 
my cabin, and from then on, after the youngsters had 
turned the day into chaos, these two would come in to 
sleep, and the cursing, the spitting, the reference to 
women with which they consoled their souls, would have 
shocked the most hardened beach-comber, I am sure. 

To avoid annoyances I explored every nook and corner 
of the vessel. At last I discovered a sanctuary on the 
roof of the unused hospital. It could not be called a 
model of order and comfort, for various air-tanks and 
stores of sprouting potatoes belittered it. But it was 
like the holy of holies to me, for there I might just as 
well have been on a lone craft of my own. No sound 
reached me from any living thing, — except an occasional 
extra-loud shriek from the youngsters. Above and about 
me there was nothing to obstruct my view, and within, 
absolute peace. 

On the following day we were on the Great Barrier 
Reef, grayish green in color, languid in temperament, 


shallow and therefore dangerous in make-up. Numerous 
islands, neutral in color and sterile of vegetation, seemed 
to stare at us and at one another in mute indifference. 
For the first time the storied reality of being stranded on 
a desolate island came home to me. As I sat watching 
this filmy show, I became conscious of a familiar some- 
thing in the world about me, be it warmth or color, a 
something which immediately brought the picture of 
Santa Anna Valley in California back to mind. Some- 
times we come across a face we feel certain we have seen 
before : that was the case with the atmosphere along the 
Great Barrier Reef. The setting is that of the island 
home of Paul cmd Virginia, Near and far, lowly and 
majestic, in generous succession on each side, were 
islands and continent, — an avenue wide, spacious, and 
clear. Occasional peaks along the mainland recalled old- 
fashioned etchings, — dense clouds, heaven-reaching 
streaks and shafts of twice-blended astral blue; rain- 
driven mountain fiords. 

Early one day, an hour before dawn, the Eastern 
moored before Magneta Isle with her stern toward 
Townsville, as though ready for instant flight, if neces- 
sary. With an early-morning shower of filthy words, 
one of my cabin-mates pulled himself together and 
dressed. Shortly afterward he slipped over the side 
of the ship into a tossing and pitching launch and was 
rushed to Townsville. His rousing me at that hour was 
the only thing I had reason to be grateful to him for in 
our short acquaintance. 

For the world was exquisitely beautiful in its delicate 
gown of night. Dawn was but waking. Four-o'clock 
stupor superintended the easy activities. A few lights 
in a comer, a bolder and more purposeful flash from a 
search-light, and all set in twilight. A ring of islands — 
the Palm Isles — stones set in a placid bay. That was 
all I saw of Townsville. 

And perhaps it is just as well. It may have been 


** ordained'^ that my ignorance obtain, be the city^s vir- 
tues and its right to fame what they may. What if I had 
gathered closer impressions, added meaningless statis- 
tics or announced the prevalence of diphtheria through- 
out Queensland, or discovered the leading citizen of 
Townsville to an apathetic world? But it may be of 
interest to hear that Townsville claims one distinction. 
It is the Episcopal See of Australia and the seat of the 
Anglican Bishop and possesses a cathedral, 

On the afternoon of the following day a heavy wind 
or squall came up. This time the ship did not defy it. 
No foolhardy resistance here. The reefs are too near 
and they stretch for thirty miles seaward. Again we 
anchored. The horizon contracted like a noose of mist ; 
it stifled one. The ship seemed to crouch beneath the 
winds. An hour, and the anchor was heard being lifted 
and the propellers were slowly revived to action. A 
little later we anchored again. A light was hoisted to 
the stern mast and twilight lowered on a calm gray sea. 
Distant little flat islands loomed through the mist. Two 
sailing-vessels at anchor, moored in companionship, 
rested within an inlet. A gentle swish, a murmur of 
human voices, and our little world was swaying gently 
upon a curious world. And there we remained all night. 

As the sun gave notice of day, we moved off, and all 
day the sea was so still that but for the vibration of the 
screws it would have been hard to realize that the ship 
was in motion. Here we came to where the jagged coast- 
line has run down. Tiny islets, flat and low, most of 
them but a landing-place for a few tropical trees. Sum- 
mer calm, with barely a ripple of the sea. That night 
we anchored again, having come, it was said, to the most 
dangerous pass on the reefs. 

Ten days after having left Sydney we arrived at the 


last port in Australia, Thursday Island. A cloudy 
morning had turned clear for us, but on ahead to the 
northwest hung heavy mists. Because of these, I was 
later told by two soldiers on guard atop the mountain 
fortification, they could not see us coming. They saw 
our smoke, but the steamer was hidden from them by 
mist. Then suddenly we shot into view. All the while 
we had been in the clearest sunshine, the sea glassy and 
the flying-fish darting about. It was no place for speed. 
We moved just fast enough to leave the scene undis- 
turbed. And thus we stole into Torres Straits. 

Of all the numerous harbors I have entered in the 
Pacific, none, with the exception of the Inland Sea in 
Japan, is more picturesque than that at Thursday Island. 
Shelter, space, and depth, and stillness! One's eyes 
sweep round this pearly promise with greed for its 
beauty. Seventy-five sail-boats, their sailless masts 
swaying with the swells, are anchored on the reefs. It 
is Sunday and they are at rest, but what enchantment lies 
hid in those folded sails ! I wish for the power to utter 
some word which could put them to flight ; but that 
remains for Monday, when *'the word'' is spoken. 

And on Monday, too, immediately upon leaving port 
at ten o'clock, the ship's time was returned to standard 
time, leaving Australia and its '^bunkum" daylight- 
saving time behind. Thence we lived again by ^ * dinkum ' ' 
time. The ship about-faced and left the channel the 
same way it had entered, and shortly afterward we struck 
across the Arafua Sea. 

From that day until I reached Japan it was all I could 
do to keep track of the seas we passed through, — Arafua, 
Banda, Molucca, Celebes, Sulu, China, and the Inland 

As we neared the equator again, there was nothing to 
disturb the peaceful splendor of life, except the little 


hoodlums on board. About sixty miles south of it a 
tiny creature, like a turtle, sailed along the still surface ; 
the flying-fish blistered the water, the scars broadened 
and healed again just as the sportive amphibians pierced 
it and disappeared. What a contrast to the albatross! 

Then the miracle occurred. From the west, hidden 
from me by the ship, the sun reached to the eastern 
clouds, dashing them with pink and bronze and blue. 
I could not tell where the horizon went to, and was roused 
to curiosity as to what kind of sunset could effect such 
lovely tints. It was n't a sunset, but a sunfall, a revela- 
tion. Where suggestion through imitation glistened on 
the eastern side, daring prodigality of color swept away 
emotion on the western side. It was neither saddening 
nor joyous. It was a vision of a consciousness in nature 
as full of character, as definitely meaningful and emo- 
tional as a human face. There was something almost 
terrifying in the expression of that sunset face. One 
could read into it what one felt in one's own soul. And 
a little later a crescent moon peeped over the horizon. 

At about midnight of the seventeenth day after leav- 
ing Sydney we crawled over the equator, and no home- 
coming ever meant more to me than seeing the dipper 
again and the Northern stars. During all those days 
nothing wildly exciting had happened at sea; but just 
after we left the equator we passed a series of water- 
spouts — six in all — which formed a semi-circle east,^ south, 
and west. The spout to the east seemed to me to be at 
least two or three hundred feet high, and tremendous 
in circumference. It drew a solid column of water from 
the sea far into a heavy black cloud. On the sea beneath 
it rose a flutter of water fully fifty feet high, black as 
the smoke produced by a magician's wand. Weird and 
illusive, the giants beggared description as they stalked 
away to the southeast, like animated sky-scrapers. 

Then we reached Zamboanga, the little town on the 
island of Mindanao of the Philippines. From there, for 


twelve hours, we crept long the coast till we entered 
Manila Harbor. 

There remained but two days' voyage before I would 
reach Asia, the object of my interest for years, and of 
all my efforts for two. But it was not so easy as all 
that, for two days upon the China Sea are worth a year 
upon the Atlantic. Riding a cyclone would be riding a 
hobby-horse or a camel compared with the Yellow Sea, 
and though I was the only passenger who missed only 
one meal during the whole period, I was beaten by the 
seventy-three-year-old English captain, — ^who managed 
all but half a meal. The sea would roll skyward as 
though it were striving to stand on end and for a moment 
the ship would lurch downward as though on a loop-the- 
loop. Sometimes it seemed as though the world were 
turning completely over. Yet I was told this was only 
normal, and that typhoons visit it with stated regularity. 
The China Sea is *Hhe very metropolis of typhoons.'' 

A month had well-nigh gone before we reached Hong- 
Kong, the British portal to Cathay, a month of dreamy 
weather. Only one thing more, — a thing more like a 
scene in the Arabian Nights. Toward the end of the 
journey I discovered where the five hundred Chinese 
whose noses had been counted when we left Sydney had 
gone. Going forward, I looked over into an open hatch- 
way, down into the hold, and there was a sight I shall 
never forget. These hundreds of deck passengers were 
all in a muddle amid cargo, parcels, hundreds of birds in 
cages, parrots, a kangaroo, — yet oblivious of everything. 
For the entire voyage nothing that I tell of could pos- 
sibly have come within their ken, as during those days 
their minds were bent on one thing and one alone, — on 
playing fan-tan. There in the bottom of the hold hun- 
dreds of gold sovereigns passed from hand to hand in a 
game of chance. And at last they were to be released, 
to spread, a handful of sand thrown back upon the beach. 

As for myself, with my arrival at Hong-Kong and a 


visit to Shanghai ended the longest continuous voyage I 
had made upon the Pacific, and the second side of that 
great Pacific Triangle was drawn. But meanwhile let me 
review in detail the outposts of the white man in the far 
Pacific — the lands I had passed on the white man's side 
of the triangle, ending in Hong-Kong, where white man 
and Oriental meet. 



IN the normal course of humaii variation, there should 
have been virtually no change of experience for me in 
going from New Zealand to Australia, notwithstanding 
the twelve hundred miles of sea that separate them. 
And though the sea is hardly responsible, there was a 
difference between these two offshoots of the *^same'' 
race for which distance offers little explanation. To me 
it seemed that regardless of the pride of race which 
encourages people to vaunt their homogeneity, the way 
these two counterparts of Britain have developed proves 
that homogeneity exists in wish more than in fact. It 
seems to me that the New Zealander has developed as 
though he were more closely related to the insular Anglo- 
Saxon, and the Australian as though he were the conti- 
nental strain in the Englishman cropping out in a new 
and vast continent. However, this is sheer conjecture. 
All I can do is to offer in the form of my own observa- 
tions reasons for the faith that is in me. 

From the moment that I set foot in Australia I felt 
once again on a continent. Melbourne is low, flat, and 
gave me the impression of roominess which New Zealand 
cities never gave. They, with the exception of Christ- 
church on the Canterbury plains, always clambered up 
bare brown hills and hardly kept from slipping down 
into the sea. But in Australia I felt certain that if I set 
out in any direction except east I could walk until my 
hair grew gray without ever coming across a mountain. 
It was a great satisfaction to me that first day, for it 



was intensely hot and I had a heavy coat on my arm 
and two cameras and no helmet. Added to my difficul- 
ties was the cordiality of an Australian fellow-passenger 
^ho was determined that I should share with him his 
delight at home-coming. He was a short, stout, olive- 
skinned young man of about twenty-three who had a 
slightly German swing in his gait and accentuated his 
every statement with a diagonal cut outward of his right 
hand, palm down. 

He lured me from one end of Melbourne to the other, 
made me lunch with him at a vegetarian restaurant, 
— which is a very popular resort in Melbourne, — intro- 
duced me to Cole's Book Arcade, to the Blue-bird Tea 
Rooms, where fine orchestral music flavors one's refresh- 
ments, to the latest bank building and even to the station 
of the railway, which *' carries the largest suburban pas- 
senger traffic of any in the world.'' ^^Meet me under 
the clock," is the Melboumian motto. How they can all 
do so is beyond me, for the half-dozen stone steps that 
lead to the narrow doors at the corner of the station 
could not, I am sure, afford a rendezvous for more than 
thirty people at one time; yet the old clock ticks away 
in patience, — the most popular and most persistent thing 
in Melbourne. 

I had so much trouble keeping pace with this Austra- 
lian, who seemed to grow more energetic the hotter it 
became, that I was grateful when he said he would have 
to leave me, and I was alone again. Then I realized 
for the first time that I could really like Melbourne ; that 
it had long, broad, spacious streets with clean, fresh- 
looking office and department-store buildings, that even 
the narrower side streets were clean and inviting, and 
that the street cars were propelled by cables and not by 
trolley wires. So easy were these cars and so low that 
no one ever waited for them to stop, but hopped aboard 
anywhere along the street. Melbourne was to me a 
perfect bath in cleanliness and orderliness, — ^just what 








A. A. White, Brisbane 


Out of his element but happy none the less 


a city ought to be. Even in the very heart of the city 
the homes had a suburban gentility about them, and 
there were no unnecessary noises, no smoke, and no end 
of pretty girls. The people were a joy to look at. 
Something of the tropical looseness in both dress and 
flesh, as though their skins were always being fully ven- 
tilated, made them attractive. The New Zealanders 
made me feel as though I were in a bushel of apples; 
the Australians, carefully packed yellow plums. I have 
never enjoyed just being on the street more than I did 
in Melbourne. 

On Bourke Street, in the very midst of the pushing 
crowd, a soft-voiced lad approached me for some infor- 
mation and strutted off, tall in his self-confidence. Vic- 
torian belles, tall, graceful, russet-skinned, plump but 
not flabby, moved with a fine air of self-reliance. On 
closer acquaintance, I found that these girls were not 
silent and opinionless as were most of the New Zealand 
girls. Whatever the issue before the public, they had 
their defined opinions concerning it, and they were not 
sneered at by the men. Then, too, there was a com- 
panionship between the boys and girls, without reserve, 
that was balm to my soul after the year in New Zealand. 

Melbourne was the home of Madame Melba, and in 
consequence the city is the most musical of any I lived in 
in the Antipodes. Even the babies sing operatically on 
the streets, and the voices one hears from open windows 
are not the head-voices of prayer-meetings, but those of 
people who seem to know the value of the human larynx. 

During the two weeks that I was in Melbourne, I was, 
whenever I chose, a guest of the Master of the Mint, 
Mr. Bagg, who was the uncle of a New Zealand girl of 
my acquaintance; lunched, dined and afternoon tea-ed 
with his family whenever I felt like it ; was rushed to the 
theater to see an old pioneer play; and went to attend 
public meetings at which the mayor and the prime min- 
ister spoke ; visited the beaches, and knew the joy of the 


most refreshing companionship it was my good-fortune 
to meet with in all my wanderings, — though there were 
others. And it was so with whomever I met in Melbourne, 
from the clerk in the haberdashery, who acquainted me 
with the jealousy that exists between Sydney and Mel- 
bourne, to the woman in whose home I roomed on Fitzroy 
Park, or the young couple with the toddling baby and the 
glorious sheep-dog, who engaged me in conversation on 
the lawn near the beach at St. Kilda. 

And so I still see Melbourne in memory as a place I 
should enjoy living in. I was often alone, but never 
lonely in it. And I see it from its Botanic Gardens, with 
the broad Yarra Yarra River slowly cleaving it in two, 
its soft, semi-tropical mists hanging over it, its temperate 
climate, its cleanliness and its low, roUing hills where 
it hides its suburbs. 

I did n't go to see Adelaide, in South Australia, because 
I was destined to live in Sydney, in New South Wales. 

It is more than mere accident that Victoria has 
broader-gaged railways than New South Wales, and that 
travelers from one state to the other must get off at 
Albury and change, or between New South Wales and 
Queensland to the north of it. It is not mere accident, 
I am sure, for there is a like difference in the width of 
streets between Melbourne and Sydney. 

Sydney is hilly, exposed, bricky, and crowded, and 
though it is the premier city of Australia, it grows with- 
out changing. There is a conservatism about it which, 
in view of the activity of Australians, is inexplicable. 
Sydney is almost an old city. Its streets wind as though 
the settlers had been uncertain of the prevailing winds ; 
and the hills tend to give it an appearance of huddling. 
The red roofs of the cottage-like houses, and their archi- 
tectural style give it a European tone, slightly like an 


English city. It has none of the fresh, *' hand-me-down" 
regularity of the American, nor the sober coziness of the 
English, village. Every street leads one to the center of 
the city, and wind as it will there is hardly any relief 
from commonplaceness. The thoroughfares are crowded 
with street cars which cross and circumambulate, some 
of the main streets are too narrow for more than single- 
track lines. Yet instead of seeing the earlier error and 
trying to correct it by prohibiting the erection of build- 
ings on the present curb lines, the authorities have per- 
mitted one of the finest office buildings in the city — the 
Commonwealth Bank Building, to be placed on the same 
line as the rest of the old structures. It is hardly to be 
expected that such methods will ever broaden the streets. 

There are no tenements in Sydney, in the New York 
sense of the term, but the average home as I saw it on my 
usual rounds in search of quarters, was ordinary. The 
rooms were small, and there were few conveniences. 

But this is Sydney proper. Newer Sydney, with its 
suburbs and homes along the numerous peninsulas pro- 
jecting into the waters of Port Jackson, is modern, clean, 
and airy, and really convenient. Man is a lazy animal 
and prone to dote on nature ^s beauties, neglecting his 
responsibilities to nature. Sydney, proud of its harbor, 
builds there and forgets its city-self. There are no fine 
structures to speak of, no monuments, no art, and even 
the library has to borrow a roof for itself in a building 
essentially excellent but neglected as a municipal white 
elephant. But there is a municipal organ in the Town 
Hall, and that makes up for much that is wanting in 

I took up my quarters across the water from Sydney, 
and from there I could see the city through the glory- 
lens, its harbor. Little peninsulas, crossed in but a few 
minutes, project into the waters of the harbor, making 
it look like an oak-leaf and affording sites for the splen- 
did homes that have been built there. Crowding is im- 


possible ; views of the water may be had from all angles. 
And here, in a borrowed nest, I sat for hours perched 
above the water, noting and gloating over its moods and 
character. What charm it works, when in the blood-red 
streaks of sunset the tidal floods cool the peaceful tur- 
quoise ; when the busy little ferries of day become fairy 
transports with streaks of shimmering light as escort, 
moving across the still waters ; when on Sunday morning 
Sydney across the way relaxes, amazing with revelations. 
With street and sky-line clear, quiet hangs in the air; 
or on more windy days, myriad whitecaps royne at the 
numerous ships which cross and recross one another's 
paths. In one direction, industry is idealized ; in others, 
nature and beauty lie naked, above idealization. 

For two weeks I lived out at Manly Beach, nine miles 
by ferry from Sydney, and went in and out every day. 
The Heads lie to the right, and as we made our way 
across, the swells from the sea beyond rolled the little 
ferry teasingly. At times, when the swells were heavier 
and the crowds excessive, a sort of panic would spread 
over them, but some of the inevitable minstrels that 
swarm the streets and by-ways of Sydney, would counter- 
act contagion with music and song. 

The beaches are always crowded. Annette Kellerman 
is Australian, and somehow, whether as cause or effect, 
Sydney people are the most amphibious folk in the world. 
They seem to live in the water. Every spare hour is 
spent on the wide stretches of sand that lie warm and 
white in the blazing sun. But nothing takes precedence 
over the harbor in the adoration of Sydneyites. 

Sydney is known for its gaiety, yet I was lonely in 
Sydney, — ^bitterly so. Perhaps people are too gay to 
think of others, perhaps their gaiety made me exagger- 
ate my loneliness. * ^ Nothing like the Australian larrikin 
when he gets going, ' * you will be told. But what struck 
me was the latent distemper that lurked beneath much 
of the hilarity that I saw in Sydney. Australia is not 


very different from any of us, — a little more imitative, 
a little more outspoken, a little more gruff, a little more 
youthful. But wildness is not specially Australian ; nor 
is bluntness; nor yet youthfulness. The Australian is 
perhaps a little more reckless, individually or en masse, 
than the people of other lands, but he puts up with the 
same social inconveniences; he reasons falsely at times 
and gets fooled ; he gloats over the spectacular, becomes 
intensely excited over nothing, — and suddenly relapses. 
In a crowd he sometimes becomes belligerent, yet is 
easily led and easily relinquishes. But, above all else, 
he is gregarious. And it is because of this that he takes 
you in in Sydney, — and drops you out before you have 
known what has happened to you. Hence he is an in- 
veterate sportsman, a heavy drinker, a perpetual gam- 
bler at the races, — faithful to his whimsicalities. 

Intellectually he is a fanatic, but tolerates all sorts of 
fanaticisms. A Sunday morning on the beautiful 
grounds of the Public Domain is enough to convince you 
that Sydney would welcome the most freakish freak in 
the world, imprison him for the fun of it, then sympathize 
with him if he dies in prison, as did the famous naked 
man, Chidley. I have seen Sydney men who seemed to 
me men without hearts, as soft and gentle as women in 
the face of another man's hurt. Yet when a well-known 
army officer stole funds that belonged to wounded sol- 
diers and their needy families, I heard respectable Syd- 
ney men say they were glad he got away with it. I have 
seen girls at carnivals, who at ten o'clock went about 
tickling strange men under the chin, snarl at them at 
eleven and order them to ^^Trot along, now.'' I have 
heard Australians say harsh things of themselves in 
criticism, but true loyalty is widely prevalent among 
Australians. An Australian always wants a mate, 
*^some one who would stick like lead" if he were up 
against it. The self-criticism comes rather from the 
more thoughtful Australians, who, looking out upon the 


future, want to see their country hold on to the prize it 
has won, and grow and become a leader in the affairs 
of the Pacific. 

But though Sydney and Melbourne are the leading 
cities of the commonwealth, he who has to judge of the 
nation by them wonders where that leadership is to come 
from. The love of pleasure is a sign of health in any 
people; and Australia is in that sense most healthful. 
Material progress is the next best indication of the state 
of a nation ; and Australia is universally prosperous. But 
it is in the outlook on life that a country justifies its exist- 
ence and insures itself against decay. Until the war, 
all reports of Australia on that score were negative, 
Provincialism, of the most ingrowing* kind, obtained. 
Every state thought chiefly of itself ; every city of itself 
only; every district of none other than itself. But with 
the war Australia took a tremendous leap forward. For 
the first time in her history, her men had a chance to 
leave the land which intellectually was little more than 
a sublimated prison to them. Half a million men left 
Australia for Europe and other sections of the globe. 
And if Australia knew what she was about she would now 
send the rest of her men and women abroad with the same 
end in view, — the education of the people for the place 
they occupy in the world. 

Much criticism is flung at Australia because her young 
men and women are inclined to enjoy life rather than 
burden themselves with a succeeding generation. If the 
beginning and end of life is reproduction, then that is a 
just criticism. But the welfare of the living is as im- 
portant as the welfare of civilization. The greatest 
criticism is not that people will not bear children in the 
face of trying economic conditions, but that, having ex- 
ceptionally favorable circumstances, they show no special 
inclination to become parents, and that nothing is being 
done to create conditions under which the bearing of 
young would be no handicap. But that requires an intel- 


lectual outlook which is at present wanting in the cities 
of Melbourne and Sydney. There is an over-emphasis 
of pleasure per se, a lack of seriousness in the con- 
cerns of life. 

Sydney lures men and women from the back-blocks 
and makes them feel human again, makes them forget 
the plains are sear, and that manliness is next to clean- 
liness. It affords dull station-owners a chance to mix 
with folk where sweetness and refinement, and not crude- 
ness, is the order of the day and of life. It takes men 
and women who have been told that to increase and mul- 
tiply is the only contribution they can make to the wel- 
fare of the community and shows them that there is 
something in life besides that. So when I think of what 
Sydney means to the world that lies behind it I cannot 
refrain from offering my contribution of praise. But 
then I ask myself and Sydney what it has done to make 
the back-blocks better, what it is doing to build up the 
country, and the fact becomes evident that it is only 
draining it. Fully 51 per cent of the inhabitants of Aus- 
tralia live in cities. It is for these cities to lay railroads 
and highways and to open the vast continent; and that 
can be done only by putting prejudices aside, by adding 
to recreation real creation and a soberness in the affairs 
of life which alone will win for Australia its place in 
the affairs of the Pacific. 

What, socially and individually, then, is the contribu- 
tion of Australia to the civilization of the Pacific? Is 
her position to be one of eminent leadership commensu- 
rate with the welfare of the individual members of the 
Commonwealth, or is their joyousness going to make her 
citizens forget ambition and their ruling destiny? This 
much must not be forgotten, — ^that born as a convict 
colony, Australia has more than justified itself ; that the 
term *^ convict colony'' is now no more applicable to 
Australia than it is to Virginia. That handicap notwith- 
standing, Australia to-day is as far advanced as any 


nation in the world. The people do not generally take 
to higher mathematics, to philosophical thinking, or to 
science, but illiteracy is rare in Australia. Given a con- 
tinent wherein nothing of civilization was to be found, 
Australia has made of it, in a little more than a century, 
a land productive, healthful, and promising. Much 
praise is due Japan for what she has accomplished along 
material lines in seventy years; how much more praise 
is due Australia for what she has done in about the same 


As one journeys north along the Australian coast, life 
begins to thin out. Fate must have been in a comic 
mood when it apportioned me my experiences as I was 
leaving that island continent, for in Brisbane it allotted 
me an august funeral, and in Thursday Island it sent a 
missionary out to ** attack me.'' Thereby hang two 

I had walked what seemed to me fully two miles from 
the pier in the Brisbane River to the heart of town 
and was rather overheated. My septuagenarian Eng- 
lishman trudged along by my side. When we arrived in 
the central thoroughfare I took note of the fact that 
things looked fresh and clean, that there was a tendency 
toward pink paint, but that otherwise I might have saved 
myself the journey. Alas, it was Saturday afternoon, 
and a half -holiday ! Leaving my venerable comrade be- 
hind, I strode along at my own pace in search of adven- 
ture, my camera across my shoulder. I had taken to a 
hilly side street, and must have looked like a professional 
tourist. Absorbed in seeking, I was startled by an ap- 
pealing voice behind me. Turning, I found the owner of 
that voice gazing intently at my camera. 

*^That 's a camera you have there, sir.'' 

I admitted my guilt, wondering what crime lurked in 
the possession of a camera. 


**I Ve been trotting all over town trying to find a pho- 
tographer, sir, but their shops are all closed. Would you 
mind coming along with me, sir, and taking a picture of 
a funeral as the mourners come out of church. Lady 

is so anxious to have a picture of them just leaving 

church. The deceased, sir, her husband, was a very 
much beloved gentleman, a prominent official, and de- 
voted to the church in which now lie his remains, and she 
would be so pleased if you would come and taik a fouto 
for her. ' ' In his excitement, he slipped into the use of 
cockney, so prevalent in Australia. I threw out my chest 
and thought to myself : * ^ See here, old man, do you think 
I Ve lived in New York and London and Paris, and 

Sydney, and to be sold a gold brick in Brisbane? 

But I '11 show you I 'm game. ' ' And I followed him up 
the street. But sure enough, there at the top of the hill, 
from an imposing church, emerged a funeral, posing 
to be taken. It did not matter to this man that I told 
him my ship was in port only for the day and that before 
I could possibly make a print I should be either in China 
or Japan. But just then Fate thought she was carrying 
the joke too far and sent along a native son with a 
camera, and I was released. I set out for the ship. 

In the little gullies that lie along the way were shacks 
or cottages, raised on piles, with inverted pans between 
them and the floor beams. White ants were eating to 
pulp these supports. We were in the tropics again. 

Fate must have chuckled. She is fond of practical 
jokes. The next time she tried one on me, I was in 
Cairns. Having entered Australia on the ground floor, 
Melbourne, I suppose Cairns might be said to be the 
fifth-story window. I left the ship the moment she was 
made fast, keyed up with expectation of seeing the tropics 
again. Ashore, the spirit hovering about tropical vil- 
lages took me in hand. No better guide can be found 
on earth. With a voice subdued, it urged me to pass 


quickly through the town, which was still asleep except 
for the saloons and their keepers. The spirit leading me 
complained of that other spirit which leads and captures 
most men in the tropics. My spirit, happy to have a 
patron, offered me luxurious scenes, melodious sounds, 
and mellow colors, — happy in receiving a grateful 
stranger. While pressing through the little village, I 
noticed the mission type of architecture of the post-office ; 
the concrete columns guarding the entrance of the news- 
paper office ; the arched balconies of a hotel ; the delicate, 
dainty cottages raised on wooden piles, the verdure hid- 
ing defects, and the main building lost in a massive 
growth of yellow flowers overgrowing roof and all. A 
small opening for entrance and a pugnacious corner were 
the only indications of its nature as a residence. Then 
there were a '* School of Arts'' and a double-winged 
girls ' school. The whole town was pretty and in concord 
with the scenes about. 

But I was not held. I pressed on toward the hills, 
to the open road. Allons! But alas ! I betrayed myself 
by doubting the ^^ spirit of the tropics'' which was guid- 
ing me. I resorted to a tiny mortal for information, 
and in that way angered the spirit, which instantly de- 
serted me. Not content with whisperings, I had sought 
definition, asked for distance, — Where? Whence? How? 
And Host! 

He was a little man, with worn shoes from the holes 
of which peeped stockingless feet. In the early morn- 
ing he had slipped on shoes which would not deprive 
him of the dew. He had covered his little legs with a 
dark pair of dirty trousers, his body with a soiled white 
coat, and his mind with misunderstood scripture. His 
bulging eyes betrayed his inward confusion. 

Upon inquiring, he informed me that the road led to 
the hospital and would take me fifteen minutes to nego- 
tiate. Then he wanted to know if I came off the Eastern. 
^'Any missionaries on board?" he asked. '*I don't 


know,'* I answered. **I suppose that is something you 
don 't trouble much about. ' * I agreed. * * Ah, that 's just 
it. Don't you know the Bible says, *Be prepared to meet 
thy Maker r How do you know but what any moment 
you may be called?'^ *^Well, if I am, I have lived well 
enough to have no fear.'' *^Yes, that is just it. You 
live in carnal sin. You have no doubt looked upon some 
woman with lustful eyes this very morning. I sin, too, 
every moment. ' ' Heaven knows I had not been tempted. 
I hadn't seen any woman to look at, and nothing was 
further from my mind just then. And so it was, — sin, 
assumption and condemnation. I talked with him a few 
minutes, asserted my fearlessness, the consciousness of 
a reasonably good life. But nothing would do. The 
poison of fear with which he contrived to wound me I 
now had to fight off. I had come out all joy and happi- 
ness in the new day, the loveliness of life. If worship 
was not on^my lips it was in my heart, and he had tar- 
nished it. He brought thoughts of sin and death to my 
mind, which, at that moment, if at any time in my life, 
was free from selfishness and from unworthy desires. 

I cut across to the sea, — not even an open avenue 
being fresh enough for me now. It was as though I had 
suddenly inhaled two lungfuls of poison gas and 
struggled for pure air. I turned back to the boat, not 
caring to go too far lest she leave port. A tropical 
shower poured its warm water over me as though the 
spirit of the tropics felt sorry, and forgave me. I re- 
turned to the ship, and quarter of an hour later we were 
moving out into the open sea again. 

The next and last time that I landed on Australian soil 
was at Thursday Island, one of the smallest of the Prince 
of Wales group, north of Cape York Peninsula, in the 
Torres Strait. German New Guinea (now a British 


mandatory) lies not far away. There is not much of a 
village and most of the buildings are made of corru- 
gated iron. But there was not at that time that stuffy, 
damp odor which pervades Suva; nor, in fact, was there 
much of that mugginess that is Fiji. Yet it is only 
eleven degrees from the equator, whereas Fiji is thir- 
teen. The street is only a country road, and dozens of 
goats and kids pasture upon it. The few stores (closed 
on Sunday) were not overstocked. There are two large 
churches. One was built from the wreckage of a ship 
that had some romantic story about it which I cannot re- 
call. There was also another institution, the purpose of 
which I could not discern. It was musty, dirty, dilapi- 
dated, with shaky chairs and shelves of worm-eaten books. 
I suppose it was a library. Hotels there were galore, and 
though bars were supposed to be closed on Sunday, a 
small party of passengers succeeded in striking a 
** spring.'' 

I wandered off by myself. Slowly the great leveler, 
night, crept into the heart of things, and they seemed 
glad. Orientals and natives from New Guinea lounged 
about their little corrugated iron houses, obedient to 
law and impulse for rest. Japanese kept off nakedness 
with loose kimonos. One of them lay stretched upon the 
mats before the open door, reading. Others squatted on 
the highway. Tiny Japanese women walked stiffly on 
their wooden geta as they do in Japan. Tiny babies 
wandered about alone like wobbling pups. Upon the 
sea-abandoned beach groups of New Guinea natives 
gathered to search for crabs or other sea-food. A cow 
waded into the water to cool herself. And the sail-boats, 
beached with the receding tides, lunged landward. 

Peace and evening. Nay, more. There is not only 
indolent forgetfulness here; there is more than mere 
ease in the tropics : there is affluence in ease. A some- 
thing enters the bone and sinew of moving creatures 
which awakens and yet satisfies all the dearest desires. 


And nothing remains when night comes on but lamplight 
and wandering white shadows. 

Late that night I returned to the ship. Deep, familiar 
sounds revived my memory of Fiji, on the other line 
of my triangle. A chorus of New Guinea voices, — rich, 
deep, harmonious, and rhythmic — rose from a little boat 
beside us. In it were a half-dozen natives, squatting 
round a lantern, reading and singing hymns in their own 
tongue. Such mingled sadness with gladness, — one does 
not know where one begins and the other ends. Shiny 
black bodies crouching and chanting. Hymns never 
seemed more sincere, more earnest. 

They were waiting there for midnight to come, when 
Sunday ends for them, and toil begins. The ship must 
be loaded. Then voices will rattle with words and curses. 
All night long they labored with good things for other 
men. When I came out in the morning they breakfasted 
on boiled yams and turtle, a mixture that looked like 
dough. Instead of using their fingers, they employed 
sharp pointed sticks, doubtless in imitation of Japanese 
chop-sticks. Progress ! 

Shortly afterward we struck across the Arafua Sea, 
and saw Australia no more. 



VENTURING round the Pacific is like reincarnation. 
One lives as an Hawaiian for a spell, enters a 
state of non-existence and turns up as a Fijian ; then an- 
other period of selflessness, and so on from one isle to 
another. From such a period of transmigration I woke 
one morning to the sight of Zamboanga, and knew myself 
for a moment as a dual personality, — a Filipino and an 
American in one. All day long we hugged the coast of 
the islands of the group — Mindanao, Negros, Panay, 
Mindoro, Luzon — the cool blue surface of the choppy 
sea between us and reality. After so many days ' jour- 
ney along the coast of Australia, through sea after sea, 
it seemed unreasonable to require a turn of the sun in 
which to outstrip a few Oriental islands. Then we swung 
to the right. Ahead of us, we were told, lay Manila, 
but even the short run to that city seemed interminable. 
At last the unknown became the known. A red trolley- 
car emerged from behind the Manila Hotel. Life be- 
came real again. 

Our ship had hardly more than buoyed when a fleet of 
lighters surrounded her, — flat, blunt, ordinary skiffs; 
long, narrow, peculiar ones. The former I thought rep- 
resented American efficiency; the latter, Filipino whim- 
sicality. The Filipino craft were decorated in black, 
with flourishes and letters in red and white. Over their 
holds low hoods of matting formed an arch upon which 
swarmed the native owners. How business-like, yet 
withal attractive. And business became the order of the 



From beneath the matted hoods of the lighters flick- 
ered glimmers of faint firelight. Life there was alert, 
though quiet. It hid in the shadows of night; confined 
in the holds, dim candles and lanterns quivered: peace 
reigned before performance. A quiet harbor ; moon and 
stars and mast-lights above; a cool, refreshing breeze. 
That was my first night in Manila Harbor. 

Morning. Not really having stretched my legs in 
nearly three weeks, since sailing from Sydney, Australia, 
I naturally felt in high spirits upon landing. The mists 
which hung over Manila quickened my pace, for I knew 
that before I could see much of that ancient town they 
would be gone, dissipated by the intense heat of the 
tropical sun. I was eager to put on my seven-leagued 
boots to see all that I had selected years before as the 
things I wanted to stride the seas to see. But I soon 
discovered that I was only a clumsy iron-weighted deep- 
sea diver. All round the Pacific I had traveled alone. 
I wanted no mate but freedom. But the three weeks en 
route from the Antipodes, on board a small liner whose 
major passenger list was made up of monosyllabic 
Oriental names drove me, willy-nilly, into the compan- 
ionship of the septuagenarian English captain. 

On account of the keying down of my reactions to the 
tempo of seventy-three plus British sedateness, I wrote 
many things in my book of vistas that seem to me now 
mere aberrations. Just to indicate what the effect was 
I shall confess that as I approached the Walled City I 
conceived of myself as almost a full-fledged Don Quixote 
storming the citadel of ancient aggression. But my 
elderly Sancho Panza held me back lest the shafts of 
burning sunlight strike me down. 

Standing before the gates of antiquity, even the most 
haughty of human beings moves by instinct back along 


the line of the ages, like a spider pulling himself up to 
his nest on his web. Round the black stone wall which 
encircles the old Spanish city, that which was once a moat 
is now a pleasant grass-grown lawn. The wall itself, still 
well preserved, has been overreached by two-story stone 
houses with heavy balconies which seem to mock the pre- 
tenses of their ^* protector.'* Outwardly, things look 
old ; within change has kept things new. Mixed with sur- 
prised curiosity at two Antipodes so close together comes 
a feeling of contact with eternity, the present of yes- 
terday linking itself with the antiquity which is to be. 

A long, narrow street stretched across the city. Span- 
ish buildings tinted pink and delicately ornamented, 
lined the sides. White stone buildings, chipped and 
seamed with use and age, lined the way. Broad entrances 
permitted glimpses of sumptuous patios, refreshed by 
tropical plants ; low stone steps leading up to dark vault- 
like chambers; windows barred but without glass, — ■ 
spacious retreats built by caballeros who thought they 
knew the value of life. Indeed, they knew how to build 
against invasion of the sun and the Oriental pirate, but 
not against the invasion of time. Perhaps they live 
better as Spaniards to-day than they lived as conquerors 

Here, within the walled city, everything looks as though 
change were not the order of eternity. Everything is 
as it was, yet nothing is so. Trolley-cars clank, motor- 
cars of the latest models throb quietly, pony-traps and 
bullock-carts stir the ancient quiet. One wonders how 
so much new life can find room to move about in such 
narrow streets with their still narrower sidewalks that 
permit men to pass in single file only, and angular cor- 
ners and low buildings. But there they are, and there 
they bid fair to remain. Even the unused cathedrals, 
whose doors are here and there nailed shut, stand their 
ground. Some of them even close the street with their 







imposing fronts, the courage of fervent human passion 
in their crumbling fagades. 

At that early hour there was little sign of human life. 
Into some of the cathedrals native women crept for 
prayer. Here and there a confined human being passed 
across the glassless windows; here and there a tourist 
flitted by in search of sights. And I soon realized that 
within the walls, intramuros, there was nothing. Across 
the park, across the Pasig River, there one finds life. 

Yet within that ancient crust there is new life. Some 
old buildings have been turned into government offices, 
high schools, a public library fully equipped, an agri- 
cultural institute, everything standing as in days of old, 
but new flowers and plants growing in those crude pots, 
— old surroundings with a new spirit. Something me- 
chanical in that spirit, — typewriters clicking everywhere 
under native fingers; still, typewriters don't click with- 
out thoughts. 

Here, then, is the conflict in growth between the ends 
of time, heredity struggling with environment, the foun- 
tains of youth washing the bones of old ambitions. They 
may not become young bones, but may we not hope they 
will at least be clean? May not time and patience re- 
mold antiquity, absorb its bad blood and rejuvenate it? 
Typewriters clicking everywhere; tongues bom to Fili- 
pino, then turned to Spanish, now twisting themselves 
with English. The trough has been brought to the horse. 
Will he drink? The library was full of intelligent- 
looking young Filipinos, the cut of their clothes as ob- 
viously American as the typewriters clicking behind 
doors. Both typewriters and garments indicated effi- 
ciency, but I could no more say what was the impulse 
in the being within those clothes than what thoughts were 
being fixed in permanence to the sound of an American 

The most symbolical thing of all was the aquarium 
built beneath one wing of the great wall round this little 


village. If in the hard shell of American possession ar- 
rangement can still be made for the freedom, natural and 
unconfining, of the native Filipinos, we shall not lay 
ourselves open to censure. The natives may not be sat- 
isfied, they may prefer the open sea; but that is up to 
them to achieve. As long as we keep the water fresh 
and the food supplies free, they can complain only of 
their own crustaceous natures and nothing else. 

All Manila does not live within the walls, however, — 
not even a goodly portion of it, — and the exits are nu- 
merous. Passing through the eastern gate, one comes 
into a park which lies between the walled city and the 
Pasig River. Beyond the river and on its very banks 
is Manila proper. As I got my first glimpse of the 
crowded, dirty waterway, I could not say much in reply 
to my companion, whose patriotic fervor found expres- 
sion in criticism of American colonization. It was like 
looking into a neglected back yard. The Englishman 
did not seem to see, however, that to have done better in 
so short a time would have been to inflict hardships on 
the natives which no amount of progress ever justifies. 
Still, with memories of Honolulu as a basis for judg- 
ment I was not a little disappointed. How to change 
people without destroying their souls, — that is the prob- 
lem for future social workers for world betterment to 

Meanwhile I had succeeded in eluding my burden of 
seventy-three years and opened my eyes to the life round 
about me. There was still a bridge to cross. It was 
narrow, wooden and crowded. It was only a temporary 
structure, built to replace the magnificent Bridge of 
Spain which was washed away in the great flood of Sep- 
tember, 1914. During the few minutes it took me to 
saunter across it, the traffic was twice blocked. Per- 


haps to show me how full the traffic was, for in that 
moment there lined up as many vehicles and people and 
of sufficient variety to illustrate the stepping-stones in 
transportation progress. There were traps, motor-cars, 
carts drawn by carabao, or water-buffalo, bicycles, and 
trolley-cars. Everybody seems to ride in some fashion. 

Yet everybody seems to walk, and in single file at 
that. Gauze-winged Filipino women, — tawdry, small 
and ill-shod, or, rather, dragging slippers along the pave- 
ment — insist on keeping to the middle of the narrow 
walks. Frequently they are balancing great burdens on 
their heads, with or without which they are not over- 
graceful or comely. Their stiff, transparent gauze 
sleeves stand away from them like airy wings. One 
has n't the heart to brush against them lest these angelic 
extensions be demolished, and so one keeps behind them 
all the way. 

The men also shuffle along. They wear embroidered 
gauze coats which veil their shirts and belts and trousers. 
There is something in this lace-curtain-like costume that 
seems the acme of laziness. Neither stark nakedness 
nor the durability of heavy fabrics seem so prohibitive 
of labor as does this thin garment. No inquiry into the 
problem of the Philippines would seem to me complete 
without full consideration of the origin of this costume. 

But one is swept along over the bridge, and is dropped 
down into Manila proper by way of a set of steps, 
through a short alley. The main street opens to the 
right and to the left. It is brought to a sudden turn one 
block to the left and then runs on into the farther reaches 
of the city ; to the right it winds its way along till it en- 
compasses the market-place and confusion. This chisel- 
ing out of streets in such abrupt fashion is puzzling to 
the person with notions of how tropical people behave. 
Why such timidity in the pursuance of direction and de- 
sire? The obstruction of the bridge promenade by the 
main street and of the main street by a side street have 


a tendency to shoot tlie seer of sights about in a fashion 
comparable to one of those games in which a ball is shot 
through criss-cross sections so that the players never 
know in what little groove it will fall or whether the num- 
ber will be a lucky one or not. 

I first fell into a bank, and the amount of money one 
can lose in exchanging Australian silver notes into Amer- 
ican dollars is sufficient to dishearten one. The shops 
were too damp and insignificant to attract me much, 
however, so I ventured on into the outer by-ways of 
the city. There the dungeon-like stores and homes and 
Chinese combinations had at least the virtue of ordinary 
Oriental manner in contrast to our own. The Chinese 
cupboard-like stores, that seem to hang on the outside 
of the buildings like Italian fruit-stands, held few at- 
tractions. There was an obvious utilitarianism about 
them which, strange as it may seem, is the last thiag 
the man with no fortune to spend enjoys. Shops and 
museums afford the unpossessing compensation for his 

As I made my way ahead to a small open square, my 
attention was arrested by a performance the full sig- 
nificance of which did not at first appear to me. At the 
gateway of a large cigar-factory from which came stroll- 
ing male and female workers, sat two individuals — two 
women at the women's gate, two men at the men's — 
and each worker was examined before leaving. As a 
woman came along, the inspector passed her hands down 
the side of the skirts, up the thighs, over the bosom, — 
then slapped her genially and off she went. Through it 
all, the girls assumed a most dignified manner, absolutely 
without self-consciousness and oblivious of the gaze of 
the passers-by. What is more certain to break down 
a man's or a woman's self-respect than becoming indif- 
ferent to the opinion of the public as to the method of be- 
ing searched? A Freudian complex formed to the point 


of one 's believing oneself capable of tbef t, the next thing 
is to live out that unconscious thought of theft and to 
care nothing for the censure of the world. 

When at work, these girls possessed a sort of sixth 
sense. The cigarettes are handed over to them at their 
benches to be wrapped in bundles of thirty. They never 
stop to count them — just place the required number in 
their left hands encircling them with thumb and fingers, 
reject an odd one if it creeps in, and tie the bundle. I 
counted a dozen packets, but did not find one either short 
or over, and the overseers are so certain of this accuracy 
that they never count them either. 

But what a different world is found at the public school 
not very far from the factory! The building was not 
much of a building, — ^just an old-fashioned wooden struc- 
ture with a court. Its sole purpose seemed to be to fur- 
nish four thousand children with training in the use of 
a new tongue. *^ Speak English,'' stared every one in 
the face from sign-boards nailed to pillars. I listened. 
The command was honored more in the breach than in 
the observance, yet where it was respected strange Eng- 
lish sounds tripped along tongues that were doubtless 
more accustomed to Tagalog and Spanish. There was 
nothing shy in the behavior of these boys and girls. They 
moved about with a certain monastic self-assurance, less 
gay than our children, more free than most Oriental- 
youngsters. In a few years they will be advocating Fili- 
pino independence, in no mistaken terms, — ^if they have 
not been caught by the factory process. 

I went straight ahead and found myself on my way 
back into the city, — ^but from a side opposite that from 
which I had left it. The squalor and the dungeon-like 
atmosphere were indeed nothing for American efficiency 
to be proud of. Slums in the tropics fester rapidly. 
One cannot say these places were slums; but they cer- 
tainly were not native villages. One felt that here in 


Manila America's heart was not in her work. Why build 
up something that would in the end revert to the natives, 
to be laid open to possible aggression and conquest? 
One felt further that the Filipinos did not exactly rejoice 
in being Americans. What they actually are they have 
long since forgotten. Once foster-children of Philip 
of Spain. To-day the adopted sons of America. To- 
morrow? How much more fortunate their Siamese 
cousins or relatives by an ancient marriage! Yet all 
who know Manila as it was ten years ago agree that 
there have been vast improvements in a decade. One 
does not include in this generalization the residences and 
hotels of the foreigners, for obvious reasons; still, the 
welfare of a community is raised by good example. 

That afternoon I stretched in the shade of one of the 
walls of the old walled citadel with its fine gateways. 
I pondered the significance of those stones against which 
I was resting. One gains strength from such structures 
as one does from the sea, — not only in the actual contact, 
but in the thought that that which human effort accom- 
plished human effort can do again. My septuagenarian 
had returned to the ship for rest. I thought of his 
criticisms of the American occupation of Manila, of his 
suggestions that England would have made of it a fine 
city. I wondered what drove the Spanish to build this 
wall. To protect themselves against Chinese pirates'? 
There is not a country in the world that has not tried to 
safeguard itself against invasion by the process of inva- 
sion. Yet any attempt to do otherwise is decried as im- 
practical. All the while, decay weakens the arm of the 

But more luring scenes distracted my thoughts. The 
sinking sun stretched the lengthening shadows of the 
wall as a fisherman, at sunset, spreads his serviceable 
nets. Filipinos passed quietly to and fro; cars, motor- 
cars, and electric cars cut a St. Andrew's cross before me. 


The scent of mellow summer weighted the air. Slowly 
everything drew closer in the net of night. 

Two days later I was in Hong-Kong, where the Orien- 
tal dominates the scene. I was at the third angle of the 
triangle, and hereafter the subject is Asia. 



TO one who had received his most vivid impressions 
of China from her noblest philosopher, Lao-tsze, 
it was somewhat disconcerting to peep through the port- 
hole just after dawn and find oneself the center of a con- 
fusion indescribable. The sleepy, heaving sea was more 
in tune with the mystic '^Way'' of the great sage. I 
had not anticipated being thrust so suddenly among the 
masses and the babel on which Lao-tsze, that gray-beard 
child, had tried to pour some intellectual oil. 

Yet, I had been living on the top floor of a Chinese 
*^den'^ for twenty-six days between Sydney and Hong- 
Kong. On board I was ready to blame the steamship 
company for the crowding and the uncleanliness. Had 
there been a dozen murders, I should not have regarded 
it as unnatural. Had I been compelled to spend three 
weeks in such circumstances, I should either have com- 
mitted hara-kiri or killed oif at least four hundred and 
fifty-five to make the decent amount of room necessary for 
the remaining fifty. So I was prepared to exonerate 
them, to praise them for their pacifism and their order- 
liness in such conditions. 

But when I peeped out of the porthole that morning 
and saw the swarming thousands struggling with one 
another to secure a pittance of privilege, which these 
five hundred had to offer by way of baggage, my heart 
went out to the great sage of 650 b. c. He must have 
been courageous indeed. 

Full families of them on their shallow sampans co- 



operating with one another against odds which would 
sicken the stoutest-hearted white folk. Yet in that 
Oriental mass there was the ever-present exultation of 
spirit. Laughter and good-natured bullying, full rec- 
ognition of the other man's right to rob and be robbed. 
No smug morality teaching you to be shy and generous 
in the face of an obviously bad world, a world ordered so 
as to make goodness the most expensive instead of the 
least expensive quality. But I soon discovered that be- 
neath that external jollity only too frequently fluttered a 
fearful heart, filled with dread of the slightest change 
of circumstances. 

The distance between the ship and the shore was not 
like Charon's river Styx, but it was a way between the 
Elysium of an alien metropolis and a Hades of hopeless 
nativity, none the less. Beyond stood the towering hills 
of Hong-Kong with its massive palaces in marble at the 
very summit. Chinese will to live had builded these, 
but the people had not, it seems, enough will left to build 
for themselves. From the very foot of the hills upward 
rose a steady series of buildings which looked surpris- 
ingly familiar, yet somewhat alien to my expectations. 
It was something of a shock to me to find that Hong-Kong 
was Chinese in name and character only, while being 
European-owned and ordered. I felt fooled. I had 
gone to see China, but found only another outpost of 
Great Britain. My American passport had had most 
fascinating Chinese characters on the back of it. But 
the ** Emergency Permit" issued to me in Sydney, had 
none. Between British ports one can always expect 
British courtesy and that largeness of heart which comes 
from having taken pretty nearly all there is worth while 
in the world without being afraid of losing it. So I made 
some hurried mental adjustments as we chugged our 
way across, amidst bobbing sampans, and convinced my- 
self that it might have been worse. 

In that great future which will put modem civilization 


somewhere half-way between the Stone Age and itself, 
the stones of Hong-Kong will give investigators much to 
think about. Everything in Hong-Kong is concrete and 
stone. From the spacious office buildings that stand 
along the waterfront, to the palaces upon the peak, stone 
is the material out of which everything is built. What 
achievement ! What a monument to Britain ! But as the 
stones become harder beneath one's feet, one senses the 
toil embodied in them. Male and female coolies still 
trudge over these stony paths, carrying baskets of 
gravel, tar, or sand higher and higher. These structures 
seemed to me like human bridges which great leaders of 
men sometimes lay for their armies to pass over. Where 
do they lead to? Perhaps to England's greatness; per- 
haps to the world's shame. 

At first one is prone to be rigid in one's judgment. 
There seems too much evidence of desire to build 
securely, rather than humanely or beautifully. The 
Orient, one hears, builds more daintily, more softly, more 
picturesquely; America builds more comfortably and 
more thoroughly. One might add, apologetically, that 
had not the masters driven these coolies to such stony 
tasks, the poor creatures would simply have built another 
Chinese wall at the behest of one of their own tyrants. 
Cheap labor makes pyramids and walls, and palaces on 
the peaks of Hong-Kong. But it also makes an unsightly 
slough of humanity about itself. Considering how costly 
pyramids and palaces such as those at Hong-Kong are, 
considering the plodding toil it took to build them, for 
the sake of humanity it is better that they were built of 
stone, so that rebuilding may never be necessary. 

Everywhere as we climb we pass rest stations, coolies 
buying a few cents' worth of food, coolies carrying 
cement. While far beneath lies murky, moldy Hong- 
Kong with its worm-like streets, its misty harbor waters, 
its hundreds of steamers, sail-boats, sampans, piers, and 
dry-docks, and all around stand the peaks of earth and 


the inverted peaks of air. Returning by another route, 
down more winding and more precipitous paths, one 
passes great concrete reservoirs, tennis-courts, an incline 
railway, water-sheds, — and the city again. 

The days draw on even here, and sunlight is curtained 
by dim night. The din of human voices loses its shrill 
tone of bargaining, the rickshaw men trot regularly but 
more slowly. Carriers of sedan-chairs lag beneath their 
loads; their steps slow down to a walk. Women by the 
dozen slip by, still with their burdens, but their voices 
have a note of softness, pleasing sadness. And now 
comes the time of day when no matter in what station 
one^s life may be cast, spirit and body shift to better 
adjustment. And through the dim blue mist the shuffling 
of feet is heard, or the sounding of loose wooden slippers 
like drops of water in a well. Whatever revived activ- 
ities may follow this twilight hour, now, for the world 
entire, is rest, — even in toil-worn, grubbing, groveling 
China, which seems not to have been born to rest. 

*^ Business ^^ is not yet gone from the streets of Hong- 
Kong, though it is now wholly dark. Every one is work- 
ing as though the day were but just beginning and it were 
not Sunday night. It is impossible to select *4mport- 
anf things from out this heap of human debris. Filth, 
odors, activity, jewelry, dirty little heaps and packets 
of food, — all are handled over and over again, and each 
one is content with a lick of the fingers for the handling. 
Then when quite worn out one may rest his bones on 
the pavement covered with straw or mat, or if more 
fortunate, may have a hovel or a house in which to breed. 
The number of homeless wretches sleeping on the inclined 
stone pavements of Hong-Kong was simply appalling. 
And Hong-Kong is British made. Hong-Kong was a 
barren island twenty-nine miles in area when seventy- 


five years or so ago Britain demanded it from China; 
to-day its population is nearly a tenth of that of the 
whole continent of Australia. But what a difference in 
the status of that population! Certainly no man who 
sees the result of over-population in proportion to a 
people's industrial ingenuity can blame Australia for 
keeping herself under reproductive self-control. 

A few of the things one sees as a matter of course 
in Hong-Kong will illustrate. As I was coming down 
Pottinger Street I was horror-struck at the sight of a 
small boy on his knees groaning and wailing as though 
he were in unendurable agony. I thought at first he 
was having a fit, but it became obvious that there was 
method in his madness. He was repeating some incan- 
tation, bowing his head to the ground, tapping fran- 
tically with a tin can on the stones, and chanting or 
shrieking out his blessings or his curses, which ever the 
case may have been. He was a blind beggar, and though 
he must have received more money than many a coolie 
does (for even Chinese have coins to give) and in a way 
certainly earned it, I could not but smile at his wisdom, — 
for at its worst it was no worse than the labor of the 
coolie. Yet from many passers-by he evoked only slight 

Upon some steps in an unlighted thoroughfare stood 
a Chinese haranguing a crowd. His voice was not 
unpleasant, his manner was persuasive. But what to? 
Had he been urging China to stop breeding, to cease this 
worm-like living and reproducing, I should have regarded 
him as a public benefactor. For it made me creepy, this 
proximity to such squirming numbers. 

Beside a dirty wall around the comer was a medicine 
man selling a miraculous bundle of herbs. He screeched 
its powers, gave each a smell, which each one took since 
it cost nothing, and then he went into frightful contortions 
to demonstrate that which these herbs could allay. But 
from the expression on his face it was obvious they could 


not allay his disappointment that the purchasers were 

At an open store was a crowd. I edged my way up to 
see fhe excitement. It was a * * doctor 's operating-room. ' ' 
Upon a bench sat an old man, gray-haired and almost 
toothless. The ^ ' doctor' ' stood astride the patients ' knees 
and with a steel instrument, somewhat rusty, calmly and 
carelessly stirred about in the old man's eyeless socket. 
All the sufferer did was to mutter * ^ Ta, ta, ta, ' ' pausing 
slightly between the ta's, but never stirring. No guard- 
ing against infection out on the open, dusty, dirty 

The crowd looked on without any sign of emotion. A 
few women sat on a bench inside, but seemed quite indif- 
ferent. There was one exception. A little mother with 
a boy of about six contemplated the performance with a 
pained expression. Her boy's eyes were crossed and 
turned upward. He had to be treated, too. 

Finally even these things end. It is nine o'clock. 
Shops are closing, the crowds on the streets die down. 
And for one brief spell the world will rest. 

Here we have four examples of life in China. When 
we examine them closely, haphazardly chosen as they 
have been, there is a strange uniformity and contradic- 
tion in their basic situations. The blind beggar-boy, the 
charlatan advocate and medicine man, the careless sur- 
geon, — at bottom all charlatans, yet all essentially sin- 
cere. That ranting little beggar howled his lying 
appeals, but at home, no doubt, were other mouths to be 
fed for which he — ^blind head of the family — ^was respon- 
sible. The herb-specialist seemed, from the tone of his 
Voice, sincere in the belief in his remedies; the surgeon, 
certain of his operation. Yet that is what China is suf- 
fering from most, and because of the faith in their crude 
panaceas and the conviction that five thousand years of 
tradition gives folk, the Rockefeller Foundation will have 


to work for many generations before it will make China 

There was another incident that illustrated, to me at 
least, China's ailment. Hong-Kong seemed possessed 
one night. I thought a riot or a revolution had broken 
out, but it was only a house on fire. Thousands of Chinese 
scurried about like rats looking for ways of escape. 
From the littered roof and balcony of a five-story tene- 
ment a flame leaped skyward as though itself trying to 
escape from the unpleasant task of consuming so dirty 
a structure. The curious collected in hordes from every- 

I made my way into this mass not unaware of being 
quite alone in the world. It was interesting to be in 
this sort of mob. The reason for China's subjugation 
showed itself in the ease with which it was controlled. 
One single white policeman, running back and forth along 
the length of a block, kept the whole mob well along the 
curb. It was amazing to watch the crowd retreat at the 
officer's approach and then bulge out as soon as he 
passed by. One young Chinese stood out a little too far. 
The officer came up on his rear, yanked him by the ear, 
and sent him scurrying back into the mob. They who 
dared rushed timidly across the street. I remarked this 
to the policeman. He was pleased. ** If you want to get 
closer up, just walk straight ahead," he said. And so 
I did, as did other white men who arrived, without being 
stopped. That was it : we were quite different ; we could 
go. Later a host of special police, Chinese and Indian 
regulars, arrived and relieved this lone white officer. 

This incident seemed to me to symbolize China's pres- 
ent state. No leader, no cohesion, no common thinking. 
Had the mob been resentful, — what then ! It was a mob 
the like of which I had never seen before. A dull mur- 
mur sounded through all the confusion. It seemed to be 


of one tone, as though all the notes of the scale were 
sung at once and they; blended into one another like the 
colors of the spectrum. The people seemed wonderfully 
alert. Their hearing was keen. Two tram-car con- 
ductors conversed forty feet away from each other, with 
dozens of yapping Chinese between. 

Thus, China enjoys a oneness like that of water. Easily 
separated, lightly invaded, rapidly reunited, her masses 
flow on together when directed into any channel, and it 
matters little where or why. And the white policeman 
assured me that when the Chinese still wore queues a 
policeman raided a den and tied the queues of fifteen 
Chinese together and with these as reins drove them 

to prison. 


Yet, what nation or race in the world has maintained 
such indivisibility against so much separation! Think 
of what the family is and has been to China, — its creeds, 
its government, its entire existence. Yet the family and 
concubinage obtain side by side. 

There was evidence of this in British Hong-Kong. 
Upon the street one day I saw another crowd. It was 
waiting for the appearance of the Governor of Canton. 
When the worthy governor emerged from a very 
unworthy-looking building, the crowd cheered and gath- 
ered close around the automobile. 

A well-dressed young Chinese in European clothes 
emerged from the hall. I asked him what was toward, 
surmising his understanding. He spoke English fluently 
and seemed pleased to inform me. So we strolled down 
the street together. He was not very hopeful about 
Chinese democracy as yet, but believed in it and 
expressed great admiration for America. Britain, he 
said, was not well liked. He spoke of his religion, his 
belief in Confucianism. He regretted that Hong-Kong 
had no temples and that he and his friends were com- 
pelled to meet at the club for prayer. 


Yet thongli he was a Confucianist, he decried the 
family system. ' * Chinese cling too much to family, ' ' he 
said. *^One man goes to America, then he sends for a 
brother simply because he is a relative. The brother 
may be a very bad character, but that doesn't matter. 
So it is in official circles in China to-day. Graft goes on, 
jobs are dispensed to relatives worthy or unworthy, effi- 
cient or inefficient. And the country is getting deeper 
and deeper into difficulties. ' ' 

As though to prove the truth of his assertions, he told 
me of his own experiences as a child. '^Chinese obey,'' 
he said. *^My father paid for my education, therefore 
my duty toward him should know no bounds." His 
father had had ten children, only two of whom sur- 
vived, — ^he and an elder sister. When his father died, 
he became the head of the family. Therefore he had to 
marry, even though then only fifteen years of age. He 
had been married for sixteen years. I should never have 
believed it, to judge from his appearance. He seemed no 
more than a student himself, but he assured me he had 
five children, — one daughter fifteen years old. Birth- 
control! Limitation of offspring! Why bother? If 
his father could ^^ raise" a family of ten on ** nothing" 
and then just let them die off, — why not he? So does 
duty keep the race alive. 

And duty tolerates that which is sapping the very 
foundation of the race, — not only the enslavement of the 
wife in such circumstances, but the entertainment of the 
concubine. I saw the way that works. 

At the opposite end of the city is the quarter where 
the concubines abound. Life there does not begin till 
eight o'clock in the evening, if as early. The clanging 
of cans and the effort at music is terrifying. Hotels of 
from four to ^ve stories, with all their balconies illumi- 
nated, gave an effect of festive cheerfulness which the 
rest of the city lacked utterly. 

Upon the ground floors, which opened directly upon 





rtiiiiltl^iiB - ^^""^ 



the street, the women could be seen dressing for the 
evening. Nothing in their behavior or dress would indi- 
cate their profession, — so unlike the licensed districts 
of Japan. The women never as much as noticed any 
stranger on the street. At the appointed time each little 
woman emerged, dainty, clean and sober, and passed 
from her own quarters to the hotels and restaurants 
where she was to meet her chartered libertine. Her 
decorum approximated saintly modesty, and she moved 
with a childlike innocence. There was throughout the 
district no rowdyism, no disorderliness. Everything was 
businesslike and according to regulation. Strange, that 
with so much self-control should go so much licentious- 
ness. But it is part of the mystery of the Orient. 

Yet, this is no stranger than that with so much of excel- 
lence in Hong-Kong, there should also go the perpetua- 
tion of coolieism; to paraphrase, that with so much 
dignity and honesty in trade should go so much inhuman- 
ity in the treatment of men. That is the mystery of 
Britannia, — and her success. America went into the 
Orient and immediately began educating it. In answer to 
a German criticism of British educational work in Hong- 
Kong, the *^ Japan Chronicle'' (British) says: 

Considering how mucli greater British interests in China have hith- 
erto been than American, the Americans are far more guilty of the 
abominable crime of educating the Chinese than the British, having 
spent a great deal of money, and induced young Chinese to come to 
America and get Americanized. Most people, including impartial 
British subjects, would find fault rather with the narrow limits of 
English education in China than with its intentions. Hongkong has 
been for many years the center of an enormously profitable trade, 
and had things been done with the altruism that one would like to 
see in international relations, there would be ten universities instead 
of only one and a hundred students sent to England for college or 
technical training where only one is sent to-day. 

Hitherto, it has been Britain's success that she has not 
interfered with the habits of the races she has ruled. In 


Hong-Kong she has built a modern city out of nothing, 
but has permitted Asiatic defects to find their place 
within it. 

For instance, there was no sewerage system in Hong- 
Kong, — a fact than which no greater criticism could be 
made of Britain, or of any other nation pretending to be 
civilized. In this no question of altruism is involved, but 
purely one of self-interest. And if greater concern for 
such matters were manifest, doubtless it would work 
its way back through concubinage, ancestor worship, 
charlatanism in public and private life. 

Having taken my chances with criticism, I shall risk 
praise. Englishmen have never, to my knowledge, been 
given credit for the possession of romantic souls; yet 
nothing but a deep love of romance could be responsible 
for the manner in which Britain has preserved Hong- 
Kong's Chinese face. Despite the fact that it is entirely 
Western in its structure, I never felt the Oriental flavor 
more in all Japan than I did at Hong-Kong. The sedan- 
chairs that take one up the steeps and remind one of 
the swells on the China Sea in their motion, the thousands 
of rickishaws that roll swiftly, quietly over smoothly 
paved streets, the particularly attractive Chinese signs 
that lure one into dazzling shops with unmistakable 
Eastern atmosphere, the money-changers and the mar- 
kets dripping with Oriental messes, left an impression 
on my mind that none of my later experiences can dispel. 


UNDER the benign influence of a Salvation Army 
captain, my feet were guided safely through some 
of the lesser evils of Shanghai. The greater could not 
be fathomed in the short time allotted to me in the Euro- 
pean capital of China. Miss Smythe, who resented 
being called Smith, in a manner that revealed she had 
long since ceased to be shy of mere man, belonged to 
New Zealand by birth and heaven by adoption. She 
chose Hong-Kong, Shanghai, and Tokyo as temporary 
resting-places. It was her task, every five years or so, 
to make a complete tour of the Orient to collect funds 
for the Salvation Army. Hence her captaincy. 

I was walking along Queens Street, Hong-Kong, some- 
what lone in spirit, when a rickshaw passed quickly by. 
The occupant, a fair lady, bowed pleasantly to me and 
disappeared in the melee. I could not recall ever having 
seen her face and wondered who in Hong-Kong she could 
be. Then it struck me that she wore a hat with bright 
red on it. Later that day, as I stepped into the launch 
to be taken across to the Tamba Maru, who should appear 
but this selfsame lady. We greeted each other, both sur- 
prised at the second meeting and at the coincidence of 
our joining the same ship. 

**I thought I had met you when I greeted you on the 
street this morning,'' she said. 

All the way from Hong-Kong to Shanghai she was as 
busy going from class to class as she was on shore, 
spreading the faith, placing literature where it could be 
found and read, organizing hymn parties and discourag- 



ing booze. The Japanese on board took ber good- 
naturedly. She spoke their language fluently, but I could 
not see that they drank one little cup of sake the less 
for her. 

When we arrived at Shanghai she would have nothing 
else but that I should go with her to some friends of 
hers for dinner. Into one rickshaw she loaded her bags, 
into another me, with the manner of one handling cargo, 
and then deposited herself in a third. The train made 
its way along the Bund and out of confusion. And that 
was the way I was shanghaied. 

Somewhere in a street that might for all the world 
have been in Chicago, our train drew up. It was quiet, 
had a little open park in it, where two streets seemed 
to have got mixed and, scared at losing their identity 
like the Siamese twins, ran off in an angle of directions. 
Here at a brick-red building with balconies and porticoes, 
and a dark, damp door, we made our announcement and 
were received. Now what would the world have thought 
if a Salvation Army man had picked up a strange young 
woman on a steamer and haled her into a strange house? 
None but a Salvation Army Lassie could have done what 
Miss Smythe, — not Smith, mind you! — dared to do. We 
were welcomed as though the appearance of a stranger 
were in the usual course of events, and I was asked to 
stay for dinner. The hostess, a quiet woman, with her 
pretty young daughter, kept a boarding-house, and waa 
always prepared for extra folk. 

It was a boarding-house like any I should have 
expected to find in America. The rooms were spacious, 
hung with framed prints, and dark and slightly damp, 
according to Shanghai climate. There was something 
haunting about the house, but to a homeless vagabond 
like myself it seemed the acme of comfort. And to one 
who had had no real home meal in five weeks or more, 
but only ship's food, the spread we sat down to was 


Miss Smythe did not enjoy her dinner as much as I 
did, for she feared all along that she would not be able 
to get to church on time. Then it was too late for me 
to regain my ship, so I was invited to spend the night 
under a roof instead of a deck. 

The next day I wandered off by myself, but not till 
I had promised to return for Chinese *^chow.'' In the 
meantime Miss Smythe had spread my fame among 
others of her profession, and made a date for me to go 
to a *^ rescue house '^ or some such place that evening. 
It was a mission home for Japanese, run by a woman 
who, if she was n 't from Boston, I 'm sure must have 
come from Brookline. The only thing Oriental about 
that mission was its Japanese. A sumptuous dinner was 
served which, despite the fact that I had had '*chow" 
only twenty minutes before, I was compelled to eat. With 
two heavy meals where one is accustomed to berth, accom- 
modations were somewhat crowded. 

Everything would have gone well if I had n't promised 
to give the residents a talk on my travels. I began. Miss 
Smythe felt that I wasn't emphasizing the presence 
of God in the numerous regions I had visited. I took 
His omnipresence for granted, but she kept breaking 
into my talk at every turn. Two meals inside of two 
people who both tried to lecture at once didn't go 
very well, especially at a mission in China run by 
Europeans and attended by Japanese. It seemed that 
there was not over-much love lost on the part of the 
sons of Tenno for those of the Son of Heaven, nor 
did the European missionaries at this place encourage 
the intermarriage of these illustrious spirits. The 
Bostonian in exile on more than one occasion spoke 
disparagingly of the cleanliness of the Chinese, much to 
the satisfaction of the Japanese. But then, she was win- 
ning and holding them to the Son of God, and when they 
reached heaven they would all be one. Miss Smythe 
afterward apologized to me for interrupting me during 


my talk, and we parted as cordially as we had met. Some 
months later I found her roaming the streets of Kobe, 
Japan> as active as ever in the militant cause. Her 
insinuations about what goes on in Japanese inns seemed 
to me unjustifiable. So I asked her whether it was fair 
to the Japanese and Chinese for her to be forever repeat- 
ing hearsay when she would resent it were I to repeat 
what I had heard about the morality of the Australians. 
It took her aback, but I am sure that she is still pursuing 
vice and drink and irreverence, aided and abetted by the 
dollars which she extracts from foreign business men 
and reprobates throughout the East. 

But I must get back to Shanghai, even though Miss 
Smythe is so attractive. As long as I remained under 
her wLug I had taken virtually no notice of China. So 
it is in Shanghai ; one cannot see the Orient for the Occi- 
dentals. For if Hong-Kong is an example of adulter- 
ated British imperialism, Shanghai is one of European 
internationalism grafted upon China. At Shanghai the 
forces of two contending racial streams meet, like the 
waters at the entrance of Port Philip, and here, though 
the surface is smooth and glassy, there are eddies and 
whirlpools within, which are a menace to any small craft 
that may attempt to cross. 

How strange to wander about streets and buildings 
quite European but to see only here and there a white 
face ! It is an ultra-modern city built upon a flat plain. 
The streams of Chinese that come wandering in from 
regions unknown to the transient, give him a sense of 
contact with a vast, endless world beyond. They might 
be coming from just round the corner, but their manner 
is of plainsmen bringing their goods and chattels to 
market. In comparison with the Southern Chinese, these 
are giants, but still dirty and most of them chestless. In 
constant turmoil and travail, beggars pleading for a 


pittance with which to sustain their empty lives, limou- 
sines making way for themselves between rickshaws and 
one-wheeled barrows, coolies pulling and carrying loads, 
some grunting as they jig their way along, others chant- 
ing in chorus, — ^yet all in the '^foreign'' settlement, amid 
buildings that are alien to them, and largely for men 
who see only the gain they here secure. I wonder if 
the Chinese say of the Europeans as Americans are often 
heard to say of Italians and Orientals, — that they come 
only to make money and return to spend it? 

Yet the white have built Shanghai. Shanghai is not 
Chinese. Had it not been for the white men, the plain 
would still be swampy, would still be a litter of hovels 
with here and there a mansion flowering in the mud. The 
mud still messes up the edge of things in Shanghai. The 
creek is an example. There are the sampans and barges, 
some loaded with pyramid-like stacks of hay, some with 
heavy, thick-walled mahogany coffins, the myriads of 
families huddling within the holds, and the murky tides 
washing in and washing out beneath them. Here the 
sexes live in greater intimacy, it seemed to me, than in 
Hong-Kong. I actually saw one woman place her hand 
in what I was sure was an affectionate way on the 
shoulder of a man : and some were mutually helpful. But 
otherwise, despite the great conglomeration and greater 
cooperation, in the entire mass one cannot see how ances- 
tor-worshipers can show so little regard for one another. 

In the market-place the confusion is more orderly. 
Here even white women come to stock up their kitchens, 
and here Japanese women move about, sober by nature 
and by virtue of the superiority they possess as con- 
querors in their husbands' rights. Two girls are quar- 
reling vociferously and the more self-controlled look on 
both sympathetically and antipathetically. The washed- 
down pavement of the market floor is no place, however, 
for a serious bout. 

Through the long hours of early evening I wandered 


into one street and out the other. I had become more 
or less reconciled to the alien aspects of Shanghai, to 
good stores selling good goods, to fashionable hotels and 
spacious residences, but one thing was inalienably alien 
to it, and that was a second-hand book-shop. It had not 
occurred to me that foreigners in China would part with 
their books if they ever got hold of them. And for a 
moment I was altogether transported, and my magic 
carpet lay in San Francisco, in Chicago, in New York 
all at once. But it was chilly and the rain made the city 
worse than a washed-down market, for it depopulated 
the streets, leaving me as dreary in heart as in body. 
I was glad when the hour came for me to make my 
appearance at the kind woman's house for chow. 

Though I was sorry to hear the missionary at the mis- 
sion decry the Chinese to the satisfaction of her Japanese 
patrons, and felt that it turned me slightly against both, 
still both Japanese and missionaries were kind and atten- 
tive to me. In the evening, a young Japanese business 
man called for a motor-car and took us out in the bleak, 
wet night to see the great white way of Shanghai. The 
rain deflected the strange glimmers of electric light 
through the isinglassed curtains of the car. For a time 
we skidded along over slushy streets, turning into the 
theater district as the attraction supreme. Here the gon- 
falons drooped in the watery air, while Chinese mess mer- 
chants stood in out of the rain with their little wagonettes 
of steaming portions. In a whirl we were through the 
cluttering crowds and making for the residential districts. 
Then wide avenues opened out in serpentine ways, shaggy 
trees dripping overhead, the slippery pavement swinging 
us from side to side as our dare-devil Chinese driver sped 
on to Bubbling Well. For an hour we rode, I did not 
know whither, but everywhere at my right and left were 
palatial Chinese and foreign residences. Without know- 
ing it we had turned and were back in Shanghai, and 
presently within doors again, — and asleep. 


Next day, this same Japanese business man volun- 
teered to escort me to Chinese City. I would have gone 
by myself, but every one looked horrified at the idea ; so 
I accepted this knightly guide. At the appointed time I 
presented myself at his office. He had asked his Chinese 
clerk to accompany us for protection, and ordered three 
rickshaws. Though he had lived in Shanghai for years, 
he had never gone to see Chinese City, and was glad to 
avail himself of an excuse for doing so now. The Japa- 
nese is a natural-born cicerone. 

In a few minutes we had left the international section 
of the settlement — that jointly occupied by Britain and 
America — and wobbled into the French district. Sud- 
denly we stopped, and our carriers lowered their shafts 
to the ground. We were at a narrow opening three or 
four feet wide, and I could not understand why we should 
pay our respects to it. '*From here we have to walk,*' 
said the Chinese, and in single file we entered, dropping 
out of Shanghai as into a bog. That was real China, 
but only as little Italy in New York is real Italy. 

The whole of Chinese City can be summed up hastily 
and in but a few words. Narrow, dirty little thorough- 
fares laid out in broken stone paving, tiny shops where 
luxuries, necessities, and coolie requisites are sold, — 
dark, dirty, open to the damp ! What destitution is the 
inheritance of these thousands of years of civilization ! 

The first thing to greet us, standing out against the 
general wretchedness, was not beautiful. To one accus- 
tomed to hard sights and scenes, to one not easily per- 
turbed by human degradation, that which passed as we 
entered was sufficient to unnerve him. Upon the wet, 
filthy street rolled a legless boy. He had no crutches; 
his business required none, He was begging: howling, 
chanting, and rolling all at the same time. I could not 


say ^^Poor child!'' Rather, poor China, that it should 
come to this I 

Immediately after, though having no business connec- 
tions, came an old man. Came? Walked crouching, 
bowing his gray head till it touched the filthy pathway. 
He was kotowing before the menials of China, not its 

The third was the worst of all. One old, ragged, 
broken beggar was carrying on his back what might have 
been a corpse, but was another beggar; the two — one on 
top of the other — were not more than four feet above 
the ground. 

I felt as though Mara, the Evil One, was trying to 
frighten me by an exhibition of his pet horrors so that 
I might not go farther. I was not being perturbed, the 
horrors ceased. 

But what beauties or treasures were they meant to 
guard? What was there that I was not to see? What 
ogre dwelt within? Nothing but a bit of business, so 
to speak, in a social bog. 

Beside a tideless creek, advertised as a lake, stood a 
pagoda-like structure, just a broken reflection imaged 
in the mud. As we approached we were immediately 
taken in charge by a Chinese guide and led along a path 
crudely paved with cobblestones into an *^ ancient'' tea- 
garden. The wall around it was topped with a vicious- 
looking dragon that stretched around it. A tremendous 
monster of wood, it lay there ; and perhaps it will continue 
to lie there long after China shall have forsaken the 
dragon. Then from chamber to chamber we strolled, past 
tables of stone and shrines and effigies, and into the heart 
of China's superstitious soul. Though in itself not an- 
cient, what a peep it afforded into antiquity, — dull, dead, 
yet powerful! 

For within these secret chambers there were displayed 
endless numbers of emperors and their dynastic celeb- 
rities. In one chamber, blue with smoke and stifling 


incense, lighted with red candles, burning joss-sticks, 
behnng with lanterns, and crowded with lazy Chinese, 
we found several *' emperors ' ' with red-painted wooden 
effigies of their wives. To me the smoke was choking; 
not so to them. The incense was sweet in their nostrils, 
and nourishing. And in payment for the sacrificial gen- 
erosity and the prayers of fat, wealthy Chinese women 
who fell upon their knees, rose, and fell again, bowing 
and repeating incantations, they were to make the hus- 
bands of these women — too busy to come themselves — 
meet with success in business. Seriousness and earnest- 
ness marked the features of these women, and who can 
say their faith was ignored f 

We emerged from this underground chamber upon 
another thoroughfare, pursuing which we came upon 
an open, unused plot. Here a circus had attracted a 
crowd. A three-year-old baby, a pretty little sister, a 
feminine father, and a masculine mother were the enter- 
tainers. They were acrobats. A family row — ^which, it 
would seem, is not unknown in China — ^was enacted with- 
out any of the details being omitted; nor did they stop 
at coarse and vulgar acts which would have brought the 
police down upon them in America. Yet the audience 
seemed highly amused, while some of the spectators 
might easily have posed for paintings of Chinese bearded 
saints, or have been models for some of the sacred effi- 
gies which, not more than a block away, were idols in 
the temple. 

These are the high spots in Chinese City, a city into 
which I was urged not to venture alone. That human life 
should be considered of little worth here is not marvel- 
ous; but that any one there should consider the pro- 
longation of his own a bit worth the taking of mine, is 
one of the inexplicable marvels of the world. 

Is this China? By no means. It is merely the back- 
wash of the contact with European life which has been 
imposed on China without sufficient chance for its absorp- 


tion. It is no more typical of China than our metropoli- 
tan slums are really typical of American life. True, they 
are the result of it, but where the rounding out of rela- 
tionships and conditions have been accomplished there 
follows a graduation of elements to where good and evil 
obtain side by side. And Chinese City is but the worst 
phase of Chinese slums plastered upon Shanghai. 

Poverty in Chinese City is one thing; in Shanghai 
it is another. It is all a matter of the background. 
Buddha the beggar is still Buddha the Prince. 

After I came out of Chinese City I took much greater 
note of the details of the life of the coolie, the toiler in 
Shanghai proper. I was out on the Bund. The stone 
walls hemming in the river Whang-po rise at a level 
round the city. For ^ve feet more the human wall of 
coolies shuts out the tide of poverty and despair from 
a world as foreign to China as water is alien to stone. 
From both walls a murmur reaches the outer world : the 
swish of the tide, the hum of coolie consolation. I let 
myself believe that they chant beneath their burdens to 
disguise their groans. Up and down the Bund they 
course, here at exporting, there at importing. Their 
gathering-places are at the godowns, and in and out 
they pass up and down inclined planks, each with a sack, 
or in couples with two or more sacks hanging from their 
shoulders, never resting from these rounds. 

At another point they are delivering mail to the ship's 
launch. Two cart-loads arrive. Coolies swarm about 
the carts, waiting for orders. Some are mere boys, but 
already inured to the tread. As each lifts a bag of mail 
he passes a Japanese, who hands him a stiletto-shaped 
piece of wood with some inscription on it, — ^painted green 
to the hilt. He takes two steps and is on the gang- 
plank, two more, and he has burdened himself with 


three bags of mail, and returns ; he received and returns 
three sticks. That is the way count is kept of the mail. 
I couldn't understand this close precaution. Could the 
coolie possibly abscond with a bag of mail under the very 
eyes of an officer? 

Two small boys eagerly rushed a distance on, to pick 
up some bags that had been left there. They were acting 
without order, — spontaneously. They would have saved 
themselves some labor in that way. But the officer in 
charge shrieked his reprimand at them. One, in his 
enthusiasm, ignored the command. The officer rushed 
after him and boxed his ears. The boy received the 
punishment, but went right ahead with his burden. Hard- 
ened little sinner ! calloused little soul ! poor little ant ! 

One youngster came up, chanting the sale of some 
sweet-cakes. Looking into his face, I wondered what 
he was thinking just then. He must think! No one 
could be so young and have such a cramped neck, such 
sad eyes, such furrowed brows without hard thoughts 
to make them so. 

In the slush and rain, under semi-poverty and destitu- 
tion, barefoot, ragged, and in infinite numbers, — still they 
toil. Yet against the background of sturdy Shanghai, 
their labor and their travail does not hurt as much as 
it does in Chinese City. The perplexities of life — 
national, racial, of caste — ^pervaded my thoughts. Why 
has China remained dormant so long? Why is she now 
waking? How will she tackle the problem of poverty? 
To me it seems that nations rise and fall not because 
fluctuation is the inherent law of life, but simply because 
universally accepted glory and prestige are positions 
generally paid for by accompanying poverty and disease. 
No nation can dominate for a long time with such coolie- 
ism as that in China. 

China has standards all her own. We come with our 
ways and claim superiority. China grants it, yet goes 
her own way. And when we see her sons we like them, 


though we may criticize, condemn, and try to change 
them. This is the oneness of China and the consensus 
of opinion is that it is lovable. People come, employ 
Chinese as servants, and try to train them. They may 
take that which they think you do not need, carry out 
their own and not your ideas. You in turn rave and 
roar, but in the end they are still there as servants and 
you as master. But they have educated you, you have 
not changed them. And when you leave China you long 
for them as did that American woman I met in Honolulu 
who fairly wailed her longing aloud to me. China has 
done this with whole nations, and, to the very end of 
time, whatever nation sets out to rule and conquer that 
new republic must make up its mind to be lost. 

And so behind Shanghai is Chinese City, and behind 
that there is China, out upon the flat plains. There is 
another China yet beyond, and still another and as many 
as there are billows on the sea. Build modem buildings 
and cities, and the Chinese take them and turn them 
inside out, and they are what he wants them to be. This 
plastic people, — what is their destiny? And what, still, 
is there awaiting the world as they fulfil that destiny? 

How strange it feels to call her republic! Yet China 
has taken to republicanism as though it had been brew- 
ing in her these thousands of years. From outward 
appearances one would never know that she is a republic 
to-day. Some say she really isn't. Coolies still are 
coolies, and Chinese, Chinese. And I dare say she is 
both empire and republic, two in one. 

For centuries China has lain dormant as though stung 
by a paralyzing wasp. Centuries have been lost in sleep. 
But what are centuries, when waking is so simple and 
is always possible? China has wakened. She is rising. 
An hour's work has been accomplished in the first fresh 
flush of the new dawn. Perhaps that is all that will be 
done that day, the house put in a little better order. 
To-morrow is time enough for real work. A Chinese 


junk comes out of its night-mist retreat with its own dim 
lights. A shrill whistle of a passing launch echoes across 
the flat plains about Shanghai. The rain of yesterday- 
remains only as a sorry mist. A vision of clearer day 
shimmers through, but soon grows dull again. China 
seems to have shaped her climate in her own image. 

A two-days' steam to Moji, Japan, on the bosom of 
that heaving mistress the China Sea, and my journey 
was over for a long while. The sea was black, the sky 
somber; even the sun was sad as it stooped that evening 
to kiss the cheek of Japan good night. I did not know 
just then that I was to say farewell to the sea for two 
and a half years, — a farewell that resulted in Japan: 
Beat and Imaginary, 



The Third Side of the Triangle 

. . . For surely once, they feel, we were 
Parts of a single continent. 
Now round us spreads the watery plain — 
Oh, might our marges meet again! 

1HAD gone out to the Katon-maru to inspect my 
quarters. I always loved to get away from shore, 
even if only in a launch or sampan; it was so much 
cleaner and fresher on the bay. That afternoon it was 
altogether too attractive out there, and the city of Kobe 
lay so snugly below the hills that I decided to remain on 
board till late in the evening, and missed the last launch. 
I hailed a sampan. In this, with the wind splashing the 
single sail and the spray scattering all about us, we 
slipped romantically back to the American Hatoba. It 
was my last entrance to Kobe. 

All of the next day I kept changing trains and creep- 
ing over Japanese hills and rice-fields in my devious and 
indirect route to Yokohama by way of Japan's national 
shrine, Yamada Ise. A few days later I was on board 
the Katori-maru, the newest type of Japanese shrine, 
the modern commercial floating shrine, named after one 
of the most ancient of shrines in Japan. The Katori 
shrine is said to have been founded some twenty-five 
hundred years ago during the reign of the mythical first 
emperor, Jimmu Tenno. It was dedicated to deities who 
possessed great military skill and has always been pat- 
ronized mainly by soldiers. Transferring shrines from 
land to sea is a hazardous procedure. For me, however, 



g i 


I was ready to give my offering most willingly as long as 
it brought me to Seattle. There were too many people 
willing to patronize floating shrines at that time for me 
to be too particular about deities. 

For a moment, as we slipped away from the pier, I 
felt what a dying man is said to feel when the flash-like 
review of life's experiences course through his sinking 
consciousness. I saw Japan and all its valleys, its dirt 
and its sublimity; and with all its past confusions I 
loved it. 

Waiting for a final glimpse of Fuji left me idle enough 
to observe the little things about me. There was, for 
instance, the two-by-two-by-five sailor who was showing 
two Japanese girls through the *^ shrine'' he was serv- 
ing. I followed them about the ship. He was explain- 
ing to them various mysteries. 

The Sailor: **Kore wa otoko no bath. [This is the 
men's bath.] " To the minds of these Japanese maidens 
such a distinction was surprising. 

The Sailor: '*Kore wa second class. [This is second 
class.]" This was like treading on sacred ground to 
these lowly born mites. 

The Sailor: **Kore wa kitsu en shitsu. [This is the 
smoking-room.]" Why a special room for so simple 
a service — and why men only? 

He led them above to the hospital. Be never made 
any comments, they asked him no questions, but followed, 
single file, as is proper for Japanese girls, agape with 
curiosity. They passed the life-saving equipment. A 
tiny voice ventured a question. An amazed member of 
the Japanese Government (it was a government sub- 
sidized vessel) said, with semi-scorn: 

^^Korewa? Boat [This? Boat]'' And they went 


All of that forenoon, waiting for the Katori-maru to 
slip away from the pier, I watched for Fujiyama, that 


exquisite pyramid (to the summit of which I had climbed 
twice), but it was veiled in mist. I wanted to see what it 
looked like from the sea, just as I had seen what the sea 
and the universe looked like from its peak. All afternoon, 
as Japan was receding into the past, I tried to distinguish 
old Fuji, but there was only a glittering edge, like a 
sword, beneath the low, bright sun. After dinner I went 
on deck and there in all that simple splendor which has 
made it the wonder of the world, stood Fujiyama, with a 
soft, sunset glow beneath its peak. The symbolic sword 
had vanished. And I felt that in all those years and 
miles and space which gather in my memory as that 
single thing — the Pacific Ocean — nothing transcends in 
loveliness the last view of Fuji from the sea. 

Then for two days the world seemed to swoon in mist. 
The fog-horn kept blowing drearily every two minutes; 
yet the steamer never slackened its speed for a moment; 
in fact, we made more miles those two days than during 
the clear days that followed. We had taken the extreJme 
northern route and were soon in a cold latitude. The 
fog became crisp, as though threatening to crystallize, 
and when I stood on the forward deck it was almost like 
being out in a blizzard. The siren continued to emit its 
melancholy wail across a wilderness of waves lost in 
mist. One could not see the length of the ship. At mid- 
night I woke, startled by the sudden cessation of the 
propellers. For three hours we were stationary, owing 
to engine trouble. The steamer barely rocked, giving 
me the sensation of the deep as nothing ever did before. 
It was at once weird and lovely, and in the darkness I 
could imagine our vessel as lone and isolated, a thing lost 
in an open wilderness of space. The siren continued 
moaning like the wail of a child in the night, and once I 
thought I heard another siren off in the distance. We 
started off again and from then on didn't once slacken 
our speed in the least, so large, so spacious, so unfre- 
quented is the Pacific in these days. 


The fog hung close for so many days thai a rumor 
went round that the captain was unable to get his bear- 
ings. With neither sun nor stars to rely on men's best 
instruments are altogether inadequate. At half-past 
nine o 'clock one evening, however, the steel blinds were 
closed over the port-holes. The ship began to pitch and 
roll. The waves rushed at us and broke against the 
iron cheek of the vessel. The fittings on deck rolled back 
and forth, and those passengers unused to the sea clung 
to their berths. 

Only when we were within three days of the American 
coast did the sun come out. For over a week we had 
been in a dull-gray world which was becoming terribly 
depressing. We were considerably farther north than 
I had expected to be. 

Five days after our departure, I was again at the 
180th meridian, and enjoyed what only a very eager, 
active person could enjoy, — a forty-eight-hour day. This 
time, going eastward, we gained a day. I also had the 
pleasure of being within fifty degrees of the north pole 
just as three years before I had been within fifty degrees 
of the south pole. In other words, I had touched two 
points along the 180th meridian which were six thousand 
miles away from each other, or twice the distance from 
New York to San Francisco. 

Calculations are somewhat misleading at times. For 
instance, when we were near the Aleutian Islands, I 
chanced to compare the records of that day's run as 
posted in the first saloon with those posted in the second 
saloon. The first read 4,240 miles from Yokohama; the 
second, 4,235 miles. Japanese handling of figures made 
the prow of the ship five miles nearer its destination 
than the stem. Japanese historians also have a ten- 
dency to make such innocent mistakes in their imperial- 
istic calculations. Japan's feet do not seem to be able 
to keep pace with her desires. 

As though to investigate this phenomenon, a little 


bird, — slightly larger than a sparrow, with the same kind 
of feathered back, but with a white breast, flitted down 
upon the deck before me, — and began hopping about. It 
approached to within two feet of me, then sneaked into 
a warm place out of sight. A stowaway from birdland, 
stealing a ride and planning, most likely, to enter 
America without a passport. Perhaps it thought that 
being near the stern of the boat, according to the calcu- 
lations above quoted, it could still remain beyond the 
three-mile limit. 

Then the homeward-bound spirit took possession of 
me, — that selfsame realization of my direction which 
had come over me upon sight of the Australian coast three 
years previously, a psychological twisting which baffled 
me for a time. Another day and we were within the 
last square marked off by the latitudinal and longitudinal 
lines, — the nearest I had been to America in nearly five 
years. To remind me of my wanderings, the flags of 
the nations hung in the dining-saloon : under nearly every 
one of them I had at some time found hospitality. 

The reader who has followed me thus far has been with 
me about three months on the sea. What to the Greeks 
and the Romans was the Mediterranean, the Pacific will 
be to us seventy times over. Already there is a wealth 
of literature and of science which has come to us through 
the inspiration of that great waterway. For Darwin 
and Stevenson and O'Brien the Pacific has been mother 
of their finest passions. In the near future, our argosies 
will cross and recross those tens of thousands of miles 
as numerously as those of the Phoenicians on the Mediter- 
ranean in antiquity. They will bring us back the teas and 
spices and silks of the Orient. But there are those of us 
who have watched the *^ White Shadows'' of the Pacific 
who would wish that something were brought away be- 


sides the ephemeral materials. For there is in the sea 
a kinship with the infinite and the absolute, and who 
studies its moods comes nearer understanding life. 

I wandered along one night with a New Zealand man, 
without knowing where he was leading me. Suddenly 
we came, by way of a narrow pathway, against a wall of 
darkness. We were at the seashore. It was as though 
we had come to the world's end and the white glistening 
breakers arrived as messengers from eternity, warning 
us against venturing farther. I strained my eyes to see 
into that pitch-black gulch, but I might just as well have 
shut my eyes and let the persistent breakers tell the 
story of the sea in their own way. Afterward I often 
made my way out to that beach and sat for hours, or 
trod the sands till night left of the sea nothing but mourn- 
ful whisperings. 

One day in August, when the first snow fell over our 
little winter world in the far South, I had climbed the 
hills up to the belt of wildwood that girds the city of 
Dunedin. The very joy of life was in the air. Keenly 
I sensed the larger season, — that of human kinship 
merged in the centuries. I looked across the hills to 
mountains I had known; but it was then not the Alps 
I saw, not the Eockies, the Aeta Roa under the Southern 
Cross, nor yet the Himalayas nor the snow-packed bar- 
riers of the Uriankhai, the unrenowned Turgan group. 
In truth, I was not seeing impassable peaks at all, but 
imprisoned ranges which were themselves trying to out- 
reach their altitudinal limitations. It was a world con- 
sciousness which was mine, and I towered far above the 
highest peaks, above the world itself. I saw no single 
group, no political sections nor geographical divisions, 
the conquest of ridges, the commingling of noises, the 
concord of peoples. And when men come to this world 
consciousness they will recognize and accept all, include 
the barrier and the plain. They will see these great, 
sheer rugged peaks knifing the floating clouds, yielding 


to the creeping glaciers, yet one and all, when released 
sweeping down the valleys as impassioned rivers, filling 
the lowest depths of earth, depths deeper than the sea, 
lower than the deserts. In such moments of world con- 
sciousness men will have to step downward from the bot- 
tom of the sea and upward from the summit of McKinley. 
Then barriers will become beacons. Mankind lives 
at sea-level. We care little about our neighbors over 
the ranges. That mental attitude makes barriers real 
and valleys dark. But when we turn them into bea- 
cons we shall climb the barriers in order to look into the 
valleys of our neighbors and they will become the ladders 
of heaven and the light unto nations. That is the lesson 
of the sea. 

At present we live at a sea-level, but beneath and be- 
hind the barriers, are the peaks of earth. Hence walls of 
houses are as great barriers as mountains. Hence even 
thoughts are barriers and ideals become terrible, cold, 
insurmountable prominences. 

But in world consciousness, which is the lesson of the 
sea, we do not reject anything, — the religions, the politi- 
cal parties, the anti-religions, and the negations, — ^but we 
bring them to the level of human understanding by 
absorption, by taking them in. That is the story of 
the sea. 

The ocean breaks incessantly before us, but only the 
one majestic wave thrills as it rises and overleaps the 
rocky barrier. A forest is densely grown, yet only the 
stately, beautiful tree stirs the forest-lover. The street 
swarms with human beings all of whom are material for 
the friend-maker, yet only one of the mass, in passing, 
steeps the day's experience in the essence of love. But 
loving that one wave, or tree, or being does not shut us 
against the source of its becoming; rather does it teach 
us the possibilities latent in the mass. That is the moral 
of the sea. 

But what is the sea? How can we know the sea! Is 


it water, space, depth? Can we measure it in miles, in 
the days required to traverse it, in steamship lines, by 
the turning of the screws, or by the system of the fourth 
dimension? To me who have been round the greatest 
sea on earth comes the realization that I have seen only 
a narrow line of it, and that I can only believe that the 
rest is what it has been said to be. Yet my faith is 
founded on my knowledge of the faithfulness of the sea. 

The sea, we sometimes say, has its moods, but rather 
should they be called enthusiasms. It is really not the 
sea at all to which we refer, but to something which in 
the vague world of infinitude is in itself a sea whipping 
the surface of an unfathomable wonder. The sea's 
moods are not in its breakers, any more than is the sur- 
face phenomenon which floors the region between our 
atmosphere and ether, the story of our earth. We can- 
not reach down beneath the breakers and learn the secret 
of the heart of the sea. In ourselves, as in the sea, we 
obtain a record of that tremendous silence which is the 
harbinger of all sound, as the heavens are of all color. 

One day in New Zealand I witnessed a conflict between 
the earth and the sea. A tremendous wind swept north- 
westward, and pressed heavily down upon the shore. It 
sent the sand scurrying back into the sea. Even the 
breakers, like the sand, fell back in furious spray like 
the waves of sea-horses, — back into the ocean. The en- 
tire length of the beach for three miles was alive with 
retreating spray, mingled with the bewildered sand- 
legions scurrying at my ankles. 

One night, on the shores of Otago Harbor, the moon, 
blasted and blunted by heavy clouds, had started on its 
journey. In a little cave huddled a cloud of black night. 
We had spread the faithful embers of our camp fire so 
they could not touch one another, and wanting touch they 
died in the darkness. We had put the curse of loneliness 
upon each of them. The little cave had become only a 
darker spot on a dark landscape, — a landscape so rough, 


so rare and rugged, reaching the sea and the western sky 
of night. So rough, so unformed, so uncompleted. The 
maker of lands was beating against it impatiently, rush- 
ing it, forming it. What uncanny projections, what 
sandy cliffs ! For ages the wind and sea have been 
whipping them into shape. Yet man could remove them 
with a blast or two. For thousands of miles, all round 
the rim of the great Pacific, the same process is going 
on, day and night. While upon land, man has con- 
tinued working out his mission in the same persistent, 
unconscious manner. 

Maker of lands' ends, Sea, when will man be 
formed? WTien will the conflicts among men cease? 
They have tried to curb one another and to subject one 
another to slavish uses, even and kempt. But still, 
after ages of whipping and lashing, they are still unfin- 
ished as though never to be formed. Are the various 
little groups which lie so far apart, scattered by some 
ancient camper, to die for want of the touch of com- 
rade, like those embers in the darkness of that empty 

Here round the Pacific we dwell, each in his own little 
hollow. May not this vast, generous ocean become the 
great experiment station for human commonalty, for dis- 
tinction without extinction? The dreams that centered 
in the other great seas — the Mediterranean, the Atlantic 
— were only partially fulfilled. But here at the point 
where East is West, it ought to be possible, because of 
the very obvious differences, to maintain relations with- 
out irritating encroachment. There was a time when pas- 
sionate desire justified a man taking a woman from an- 
)ther with the aid of a club. To-day the decent man knows 
that however much he may love, only mutual consent 
makes relationship possible. And from the frenzy of un- 
tutored souls let those who feel repugnance withdraw till 


the force of a higher morality makes the rest of the world 
follow in its wake. 

. . . now I only hear 

Its melancholy, long, withdrawing roar, 

Retreating to the breath 

Of the night-wind down the vast edges drear 

And naked shingles of the world. 

Ah, love, let us be true 

To one another ! for the world, which seems 

To lie before us like a land of dreams. 

So various, so beautiful, so new, 

Hath really neither joy, nor love nor light, 

Nor certitude, nor peace, nor help for pain: 

And we are here as on a darkling plain 

Swept with confused alarms of struggle and flight, 

Where ignorant armies clash by night. 





TO the primitive or simple races of the world mar- 
riage, divorce, and supply of only the elemental 
wants are the most intense problems. Nourishment and 
reproduction make up the rounds of life. While the 
highly developed nations around the Pacific are con- 
cerned with the exploitation of the resources of the is- 
lands, and with political problems growing out of their 
reciprocal interests, the natives are struggling with mat- 
ters that lie nearer the real foundations of life. For 
them the question of survival is an immediate and press- 
ing one. Extinction is facing many of them, absorption 
by inflowing races is creating altogether new difficulties 
and relationships, such as marriage and divorce, while 
newer conceptions of exchange and trade, the buying and 
selling of meats and vegetables, are introducing social 
and moral factors they could not as yet be expected to un- 
derstand. Nor can we who have thrust ourselves upon 
them or accepted responsibility for their well-being un- 
derstand our obligations unless we think of them as 
human beings, or without visualizing their problems by 
human examples. Nor can we escape these responsibili- 
ties or shirk them. Out of the stuff their lives are made 
of grow the larger problems, those of the relationship of 
the great civilizations that touch each other on the Pacific 
— Asia, Australasia, America. 

Threnodies and elegies a-plenty have mourned the 
passing of the Polynesians of the South Seas. The noble 
savage whose average height often measured six feet — 



plus thick callouses — has stalked among us, as a myth- 
ical figure, maidens unabashed in their naked loveli- 
ness have lured men to the tropics oblivious of home ties. 
Leisure and unlimited harems in prospect have afforded 
many a civilized man salacious joys the like of which 
the white race has not altogether abandoned, but which 
few have the courage to pursue in the open. The pass- 
ing of these Pacific peoples has in some quarters been 
hailed as an indication of the viciousness of civilization; 
their yielding to virtue has been deplored by others. 
The sentimentalist has clothed them in romance; the 
cynic has stuck horns in their brows. But whether the 
romancer is wrong or the missionary devoid of appre- 
ciation of nature unadorned, the passing of the Polyne- 
sian is an admitted danger. Whether it was the vice 
of the drunken sailor or the clothes of the devout disciple 
that brought about this downfall shall not here be deter- 
mined. It will be mine merely to depict in living examples 
the episodes that indicate their evanescence, and to point 
to the silent forces of regeneration that are at work, — 
forces that, having accomplished the virtual decease of 
some of the finest races in the world, and yet are bring- 
ing about their rebirth. 

One cannot live in the tropics without romancing. 
The simplicity, the earnestness of life, devoid of many 
of the outer signs of avarice so consonant with the indi- 
vidualism of our civilization; the slovenliness unham- 
pered by too many clothes, — these take one by a storm of 
pleasure. One forgets the natives once were canni- 
bals; or rather, one delights in saying to oneself *Hhey 
were,'' and forgets to thank the missionary and the 
trader for having altered these tastes before one arrived ; 
one exalts every sprawling* female into a symbol of 
naturalness, though Heaven knows the soft white skins 
and hidden bosoms of the North come as welcome 
reminders in face of native temptations. And with 
Professor Brown of New Zealand, one deplores that the 


selfsame missionaries and traders **in spite of their an- 
tipodal purposes and methods, alike force the race to 
decay/' Their contract with the white race is demoraliz- 
ing even where it aims to be most jnst and helpful. Their 
lands, made secure to them by legislation (as in New Zea- 
land), often become the means of gratifying wild tastes 
for motor-cars and fineries which leave them bankrupt 
physically and morally. 

It was a steaming day. I had been up from before 
dawn in order to make my pilgrimage to Vailima. Half 
the morning was not yet gone when I returned to the 
little hotel in Apia, situated beside the reefs, to hide 
myself away from the burning sun. Even within the 
shade of the upper veranda my flesh squirmed beneath 
my shirt and the shoes upon my feet became unbearable. 
So off went my shoes. Nothing merely romantic could 
have induced me to crawl from under the shadows. There 
I was content to listen to the lapping of the broken waves 
as they washed shoreward over the reefs. There I 
inhaled the scent of tropical vegetation as it reached me, 
tempered and sifted to the satisfaction of one who dreads 
the sun and its overweening brilliance. 

Suddenly a wail lanced the silence. It sounded for all 
the world like the melancholy ^* extra" which New York 
newsboys cry through the side streets when they wish 
to make a fire the concern of the world. I sprang up and, 
leaning over the veranda rail, strained my neck in the 
direction of the crier, who was still behind the bend in 
the road which is Apia's Main Street. It seemed to 
take him an unconscionable time to come into view, his 
voice approaching and receding, and being battologized 
as though by a hundred megaphones. Prancing, crouch- 
ing, and shading his eyes in the manner of an Amerin- 
dian scout, he finally made his appearance, — a grotesque 
fiend, one to strike terror to the heart of a god. His 


oiled body glistened in the sun; his charcoal-blackened 
jaw resembled that of a gorilla; while a scarlet turban 
of cheese-cloth wound after the fashion of the Hindu 
gave flaming finish to this frightful impersonation of the 
devil. Nothing but the presence of the army of occupa- 
tion and the Encounter out in the harbor could have 
allayed my apprehension, not even the vanity of racial 
superiority or the oft-repeated prophecies about this 
vanishing race. For he seemed savagery come to life. 

Presently four others, similar personifications of dev- 
iltry, came on behind him. In addition to make-up, 
each brandished a long knife used for cutting sugar-cane, 
or a clumsy ax. They squatted, they jumped, whirling 
their weapons in heavy blows at imagined enemies. Never 
was make-believe played with greater conviction, never 
was the wish father to the act with more pathetic earnest- 
ness. The pitcher of a chosen nine never hurled his ball 
across an empty field with greater determination to win 
the coming game than did these warless warriors wield 
their weapons. 

Slowly from the rear came the army, four abreast, 
in stately procession. There were seventy-five Samoans, 
each over six feet tall, men of girth and bone and pride. 
Their glistening bodies reflected the sun like a heaving 
sea. Their loins were draped in leaves in place of the 
eyery-dsiy sulu, with girdles of pink tissue paper round 
them. Their faces, too, were blackened with charcoal, 
and turbans of red cheese-cloth capped them. Those of 
them who could not secure knives or axes, wielded sticks 
with threatening realism. 

In an instant I was in my shoes again and out upon the 
road, a bit of flotsam in the wake of a great pageant. 

I fell in with a Samoan policeman, dressed like an 
English Bobby, trailing along in the rear. *' What ^s the 
trouble?^' I asked. *'Is this a preliminary uprising? *' 
There was much talk of the Germans stirring the natives 
to rebellion against British occupation, but evidently the 


natives had had enough of alien squabbles, and it seemed 
to matter little to them by which of the white invaders 
they were ruled. A strange expression came into the 
policeman's face, a mixture of awe and contempt. He 
could speak only a very scant amount of English, but 
enough to unlock this awe-inspiring secret. ^^Tamasese, 
the king he dead,'' he said. I fumbled about in my mem- 
ory for coincidences. The policeman was old enough to 
have been an understanding boy at the time Stevenson 
took up the cause of Mataafa as opposed to the German 
interests and antagonistic even to the British and Ameri- 
can attitude. It must have been strange to him, there- 
fore, to find himself a British policeman in a uniform of 
blue, with a heavy helmet, timidly following a funeral 
procession in honor of the son of a king disfavored of 
Stevenson, — ^while all about were the soldiers of New Zea- 
land. I got nothing from him of any political significance, 
but much in the way of the spirit of his race. For though 
an officer of ^'the" law, perhaps the only one of his kind 
in Samoa, he dared not go too close to the ranks of these 
stalwarts. They had come from every islet of the Samoan 
group, the pick of the race, representatives declaring be- 
fore the whole world : Our race is not dead ; long live our 
race ! 

So, all along the way for over a mile into the country 
behind Apia, continued the procession. Not for a mo- 
ment did the antics cease ; not for a moment did the wail 
of the warriors subside. Every time the advance scouts 
called out, **0-o-o-o-s-o-o-o" [The king is dead], the 
four behind him thundered their denial, *'E sa" [Long 
live the king], and the entire regiment droned the con- 
fession **0 so." For the king was truly no more. Not 
only the king but his kingdom. For not only was there 
now no struggle of aliens over its precincts, but the 
second conqueror, Britain, who once did not think Samoa 
worthy as spoils, had stepped in and taken possession. 

The procession filled the native population with awe. 


No one ventured near. A dog ran across the road and 
was immediately cut down by the sugar-cane knife in 
a warrior's hand. A Chinese, with the contempt of the 
fanatic for the fanaticism of others, drove his cart indif- 
ferently into their line. Knives, axes, and other bor- 
rowed, stolen, or improvised weapons found their way 
into the chariot of the Celestial. 

Half-way along, a limping old man whose leg was 
swollen with elephantiasis advanced against them. He 
challenged their approach. They cut the air with furi- 
ous blows aimed in his direction. He pretended to fall, 
in the manner of a Russian dancer, picked himself up and 
started on a wild retreat. The army had routed an 

Here the roadside spread in open land dotted every- 
where with native huts. Presently the army arrived 
at the king's grounds, where a simple hut sat back about 
two hundred feet from the road, with a bit of green 
before it. The army broke *'rank," and squatted in a 
double row just at the side of the road. For a few min- 
utes there was silence. 

Then out of the group rose Maii, the leader. Silently 
he strode the full width of the space in front of the thirty 
seated men, leaning lightly upon the long rough stick 
in his hand. His giant-like figure was the personifica- 
tion of dignity; his roughened face the acme of sobriety; 
he seemed lost in thought. Facing about, he started to 
retrace his steps in front of the seated men, then, as 
though suddenly recollecting himself, turned his head 
in the direction of the king's hut and in a subdued tone 
no higher than that in ordinary conversation, addressed 
the house of Tamasese, which stood fully half a block 
away. Quietly, but not without emotion, he spoke and 
paused ; and every time he paused the leading four men 
would shout ''0-o-o-s-o-o," and the entire group would 
answer '*0 sa." Convincing and convinced, the leader 


proceeded with his oration. An hour later, to the min- 
ute, he finished. 

At the king's house appeared an old man in a snow- 
white sulu, leaning heavily on a stick. I could see his 
lips moving, but could not hear a word. He was speak- 
ing to the leader, who could not hear any more than I. 
They kept up the pretense at conversation for a few 
minutes and all was agreed upon. A servant, who had 
followed the old man with a soft mat in his hand which 
to me looked like silk, advanced cautiously toward the 

Two of them jumped instantly to their feet, brandish- 
ing their knife and ax furiously as though to protect the 
leader or to drive away evil spirits, I knew not which. 
But certain it was the cautious servant became still more 
cautious, timidly arriving with his offering and present- 
ing it to the chief. The manner in which the gift was 
accepted, though solemn enough, was full of admonition, 
much as to say: **Now, don't you do that again.'' The 
mat-bearer's heart seemed relieved of a great terror, 
and he started back to the house of the king. On his 
way he passed a mango-tree, stopped, looked up as 
though he had spied an evil spirit, picked up a mango, 
stepped back, and dramatically hurled it at the tree as 
a boy would who was playing make-believe. At that the 
whole army of stalwarts rose and departed to the right. 

As soon as they left the grounds, eleven girls, in single 
file, each with a mat of the loveliest texture imaginable 
flung to the breeze, came out upon the road from the 
other side of the grounds and followed round the front 
to the right after the way of the warriors. And the 
ceremony was over. 

I had squatted on the ground, close to the warriors. 
They treated me as though I were an innocent child who 
did not know the dangers of evil things, nor enough to 
respect my superiors. Not so the natives. Even the 
policeman with whom I had arrived had retreated to the 


protection of a hut some three hundred feet away from 
the road. All the people in the neighborhood — ^men, 
women and children — kept within their own huts, their 
solemn faces full of awe and respect. Nor did the ten- 
sion slacken until the last of the maidens had made her 
way out of sight. 

Thus was the son of the last Samoan king escorted in 
safety along the other way, — a way which to the native 
mind seemed as vivid and real as heaven and hell were 
to Dante and Swedenborg. 

Exit the Noble Savage. ** Think,'' says Bancroft, 
spokesman of the arrogant *^ Blond Beast,'' '^what it 
would mean to civilization if all these worthless primi- 
tives were to pass away before us." The beginning of 
this end was witnessed and told by Stevenson in 1892, 
but the natives' version of it has yet to be related. 
Against those who mourn his loss as the Hellenist the 
Greeks, are some of our most practical men. 

The Samoans are not vanishing as rapidly as are the 
Hawaiians and the Maories, for two very simple reasons : 
their climate is not so suitable to the white man as is 
that of New Zealand and of Hawaii. Nor, like Fiji, has 
Samoa been hampered by indentured coolieism, though 
Chinese do come. Raciallv there seems no immediate 
prospect of Samoa being submerged, though politically 
it fell before Hawaii did. Socially, however, it is going, 
as are the native features of most of the more progres- 
sive and more assimilable peoples of the Pacific. 

Simple naturalness is fast fading even from Samoa. 
I do not mean to say that because Samoans are drifting 
farther and farther from their primitive customs they 
are losing their ** charm." With progress, one expects 
not oddity, but simplicity; not shiftlessness, but a cer- 
tain tightening up of the finer fibers of the race. It is 


satisfying to see the contrast between the loosely built 
native hut and that whose pillars are set in concrete and 
roofed with durable materials. But it is disheartening 
when the change is only from thatch, which needs to be 
replaced every so often, to corrugated iron, without any 
other signs of durability. In other words, the corru- 
gated iron roof is no proof that the race is becoming more 
thrifty, less lazy, — but the reverse. It indicates that 
indolence has found an easier way, a more permanent 

My presence at the ceremony in honor of the royal de- 
mise gave me an opportunity to see at once some of the 
best specimens of Samoan manhood. It left me with the 
impression that no race capable of mustering so many 
men of such build was on the decline. There was noth- 
ing in their manner to indicate servility or despair. 
And some day Setu, with his knowledge of Western 
civilization gained at first hand, may be the means of 
arousing his fellow-Samoans to great things. 

The process of assimilation and decline is taking place 
with far more rapidity in Hawaii. Hawaii crashed like 
a meteor into America and was comminuted and absorbed. 
The finer dust of its primitive civilization is giving more 
color to our atmosphere than any other American pos- 
session. But the real Hawaii is rapidly receding into 
the past. On the beach at Waikiki there is a thatch-roofed 
hut, but like most of the Hawaiians themselves, it bears 
too obviously the ear-marks of the West, the imprint of 

What there is left of the Hawaiians still possesses a 
measure of strength and calmness. Big, burly, self- 
satisfied, they wend their way unashamed of having been 
conquered. Only a few thousand can now claim any 
racial purity. The mixture of Hawaiians with the vari- 


ous peoples now in occupation of their lands is growing 
greater every year ; those of pure Hawaiian blood, fewer. 
And after all, is it any reflection upon any race that it has 
been assimilated by its conquerors'? 

And assimilated to the point of extinction Hawaii has 
been. It has become an integral part of a continental 
nation of whose existence it had hardly known a hundred 
years ago. When Captain Cook discovered Hawaii he 
estimated its population at 400,000. Fifty years later 
there were only 130,000. To-day there may not be more 
than 30,000. The white race has had its revenge on 
these natives for the death of this intrepid captain. And 
the last of the great Hawaiian rulers, Queen Liliuokalani, 
shorn of her power, passed away on November 11, 1917. 
She, the descendant of great warriors and remarkable 
political leaders, had turned to the only thing left her — 
expressing the sentiments of her people in music. 

The submersion is nearly complete. Politically, there 
is n 't a son among them who would feel any happier for 
a revival. So little fear is there of such a hope ever 
rising even for a moment in the Hawaiian breast that 
the key to the former throne-room hangs indifferently 
on a nail in the outer office of the present government. I 
believe that that is the only throne-room under the 
American flag. It is a small room, modern and finished 
in every detail. On its walls hang paintings of kings 
and queens and ministers of state. There is a musty 
odor about it, which could easily be removed. All one 
need do is open the windows and an inrush of sensuous 
air would sweeten every comer of it. This would be 
doing only what the race is doing with every intake of 
alien blood. 

A broad-shouldered, broad-nosed, broad-faced — and 
seemingly broad-hearted — Hawaiian clerk took me into 
the room. As we wandered about he told who the 
worthies were, enframed in gilt and under glass. Inter- 
spersed with some facts was inherited fancy. His 


enthusiasm rose appreciably when he recited the deeds 
of Kamehameha I, their most renowned king. 

*^Once he saw an enemy spy approach/* said my 
guide. *^He threw his spear with such force that it pene- 
trated the trunk of the cocoa-pahn behind which the 
traitor was hiding, and pierced the man's heart.'' A 
merry twinkle lit up the cicerone's eyes. That twinkle 
was something almost foreign to the man : it must have 
been the white blood in him that was mocking the tales 
of his native ancestry. 

Aside from these few portraits there was nothing in 
the throne-room which gave evidence of Hawaii's former 
prestige. Here that king's descendants planned to lead 
his race to glory among nations. And here they were 
outwitted. The guide had recounted among the king's 
exploits his ability to break the back of his strongest 
enemy with his naked hands. Yet the white man came 
along and broke the Hawaiian back. And to-day he who 
wishes to learn the habits, the arts, and the exploits of 
these people has to go to the Bishop Museum in Hono- 

A primer got up for children, to be learned parrot-like, 
and distributed to tourists, tells us ^Hhe Hawaiians 
never were savages." We are also assured they ** never 
were cannibals," and ** speedily embraced religion." The 
first is an obvious misstatement ; the second is an apology 
of uncertain value; as to the third, the son of one of 
Hawaii's best missionaries, who just died in his 
eighty-fifth year, said: ^'Not until the world shall learn 
how to limit the quantity and how to improve the quality 
of races will future ages see any renewal of such idyllic 
life and charm as that of the ancient Polynesians." Dr. 
Titus Munson Coan, whose father converted some fifteen 
thousand Hawaiians to Christianity, deplored the effect 
on the native of the high-handed suppression of native 
taboos and attributes their extinction — which seems 
inevitable — to the imposition of clothes which they put 


on and off according to whim, and to customs nnsuited to 
their natures. Dr. Coan said that though his father had 
a powerful voice he remembered that often he could not 
hear him preach because of the coughing and sneezing of 
the natives. 

Be that as it may, a visit to the Bishop Museum would 
quickly contradict the primer. There the array of 
weapons shows that the natives were not only barbarous 
but savage. This is no serious condemnation, for none 
of Europe's races can show any cleaner record. Arts, 
indeed, the Hawaiians had, and sense of form and color. 
An apron of feathers worn by the king required a 
tax of a feather apiece on hundreds of birds. After 
this feather was extracted, the bird was set free, an indi- 
cation of thrift if not kindliness. Yet they did not hesi- 
tate to strip the flesh off every bone of Captain Cook 
and distribute portions among the native chiefs. No one 
has proved that they ate it ; but cannibalism is, after all, 
a relative vice and was not unknown in northwestern 

The passing of the Hawaiians, like that of many other 
races in the Pacific, is due to a cannibalism and a bar- 
barism which are less emphasized in the ordinary discus- 
sions of the problem. There are more ways than one 
of eating your neighbor. However harrowing that sav- 
age diet was, it did not work for the destruction of any 
of these South Sea islanders as ruthlessly as did the 
practice among the Hawaiians of infanticide. Mothers 
were in the habit of disposing of their impetuous children 
by the simple method of burying them alive, frequently 
under the very shelter of their roofs, lying down upon 
the selfsame floor and sleeping the sleep of the just with 
the tiny infant squirming in its grave beside them. Par- 
ents were not allowed to have more than a given number 
of children because of the strain on the available food 


supply. This more than anything else depleted the num- 
ber of natives most disastrously. But in addition came 
the white man with his diseases, contagious and infec- 
tious, — a form of destruction that, from the native point 
of view, is quite as dastardly as eating the flesh of the 

Certainly, whatever the viciousness of the occasional 
or annual outbursts of passion among these primitive 
folk, there was no example of regulated, insistent pander- 
ing to vice such as has been set them by the Europeans, 
especially in Hawaii. There one evening I wandered 
through the very depths of degradation; there I wit- 
nessed a process of fusion of races which had only one 
possible end, — extinction. Its Hawaiian name had a 
strange similarity to the word evil : it is Iwileu McDufifie, 
Chief of Detectives of Honolulu, was making his inspec- 
tion of medical certificates, which was part of the work 
of *^ restriction," and took me with him. 

Mr. McDuffie had been standing near the window of 
the outer office, with one foot upon a chair, talking to 
another detective, when I called out his name. Tall, 
massive, with hair almost gray, a rather kindly face, he 
looked me up and down without moving. I explained my 

'^Who are youT' he asked bluntly. 

A mean question, always asked by the white man in the 
tropics. Well, now, who in thunder was I, anyway! I 
murmured that I was a * Vriter.'^ **Be round at seven- 
thirty, and you can come along,'' he said dryly. 

On his office walls hung hatchets, daggers, pistols, sab- 
ers, and many other such toys of a barbarous world hack- 
ing away against or toward perfection. On the floor were 
dozens of opium pipes, taken in a raid upon Chinese 
dens, — ^toys of another kind of world trying to forget its 
progress away from barbarism. One Japanese continued 
his game of cards nonchalantly. Flash-lights were in 
evidence, fearlessly protruding from hip pockets. 


At half-past seven I was there again. As we were 
about to enter the motor-car, I ventured some remark, 
thinking to make conversation. ' ' Get in there, ' * said the 
chief, abruptly. For an instant he must have thought 
he was taking a criminal to confinement. 

Zigzagging our way through the streets and across 
the river, we entered an unlighted thoroughfare, hardly 
to be called a street. A steady stream of straggling 
shadows moved along like spirits upon the banks of the 
river Styx. Our way opened out upon a lighted section, 
crowded with negro soldiers and civilians of all nation- 
alities. Here, then, and not only beyond the grave, class 
and distinction and race dissolve. A perfect hubbub of 
conversation, soda fountains and plain noise, and reel- 
ing of drunkies. A futurist conception of confusion 
would do it justice. We were at the gates of Babylon. 

A closely boarded fence surrounded this city of dread- 
ful night. Hundreds of men crowded the passageway. 
Within were rows and rows of shacks and cottages. Men 
stood gazing in at open doors and windows. Outside 
one shack a negro soldier remained fixed with his foot 
upon the door-step, but ventured no farther. Within, 
on a bed in full view, sat a Portuguese female, smoking, 
an Hawaiian woman companion lounging beside her. 
Both ignored the male at the door. But he remained, 
silent. Hope fading from his mind, and some interest 
elsewhere creeping in, he moved away. The Hawaiian 
woman smiled contemptuously. 

Then for three-quarters of an hour we made strange 
calls. Our card was a club which the assistant to the 
detective — a massive Hawaiian — rapped on every porch 
step, announcing the expected visitor. He was not un- 
welcome. From every door emerged a woman, covered 
with a light kimono, and neatly shod. At cottage after 
cottage, door after door, they appeared, showed their 
** health'' certificates, and retreated. Japanese, Hawai- 
ian, white, brown, and yellow. Some extremely pretty 


and not altogether unrefined in manner; some ugly and 
coarse. The inspection was done hastily. Where 
appearance of the inmate was delayed, a stamp of the 
foot brought the tardy one scurrying out. Some greeted 
the detective familiarly; others showed their certificates 
and retreated. One Japanese woman called after us 
when we had passed her door without stopping. 

Wherever there was any transgression against the 
proprieties, the inspector commanded the guilty to desist, 
and went on. One woman complained that a negro had 
just attacked her with a knife. She whistled and called, 
she said, **But I might have been killed for all the assist- 
ance I gof The inspector spoke kindly to her, assured 
her he would order the guard to come round. But noth- 
ing was done. 

Two or three doors farther on a fat and playful woman* 
entertained a number of men who stood outside her 
porch. The inspector told her to keep still. * * Just such 
remarks as that cause trouble. You get inside and stay 
there.'' She shrugged her shoulders, made faces at him, 
and danced playfully within-doors. 

We came upon two groups of negroes, gambling. The 
inspector slapped one of them upon the shoulder in a 
kindly way and told them to get out of sight. **You 
know it 's not allowed here." They moved away. 

It was a network of streets. Not an underworld but 
a hinterland, a dark swamp-land, full of scum and squirm- 
ing creatures. A dreadful city, full of *^ joy" and aban- 
don. A city in which women are the monarchs, the 
business factors, the independent, fearless beings, need- 
ing no protection. Protection from what could they 
need! Surely not from poverty, for wealth seemed to 
favor these. From loss of reputation? They had no 
reputations to lose. Protection they needed, but rather 
from themselves than from outside dangers. 

For this was a restricted district which harbored no 
restrictions. This was the crater of human passion, of 


animal passion. The well-ordered universe without; 
within, the toils of voluptuousness. In this pit the lava 
of lust kept stirring, the weight of unbalanced emotion 
overturned within itself. The crater was thought to 
be deep and secure against overflow. But if it did boil 
over, was it far from the city? 

In the city the sound of pianos playing, people reading, 
swimming-pools full, streets crowded with racing auto- 
mobiles, soda fountains crowded, theaters agog, gather- 
ing of folks in homes and cafes, — a great world with 
allotted places to keep men and women and children 
happy; that is, away from themselves. A heavy curtain 
of order protects one section. The most disgusting 
polyandry shrieks from out the other. Yet no savage 
community needed such an outlet for its emotions. 

From various sources I learn that that little crater 
has overflowed. The Chamber of Commerce, backed by 
the missionaries and others, secured legislation against 
the '^regulation'' of the district in 1917. From another 
source I got it that it was not the forces for good that 
banished it, but that two contending and competing 
forces for evil had mutually eliminated themselves. But 
still another source gives it out that certain ''slum" 
sections where housing facilities are inadequate are now 
the center of evil, and that Filipino panderers are the 
most guilty. And a year after Iwilei was "done away 
with'' — in April, 1918 — the Chief of Detectives asked for 
"thirty days" in which to show what he could do to 
clean up the place so as to make it fit for the soldiers to 
come to Honolulu. 

Little wonder that, with such examples of "self- 
respect" and shamefulness, lovers of the Hawaiians are 
throwing themselves into the work of saving the few 
remaining natives from demoralization. Before Cook's 
time these people did not know what prostitution was. 
Now they have lost hope and confidence in themselves. 
The less pessimistic say that another hundred years will 


see the last of the Hawaiians, as we have seen the last 
of the Tasmanians. Others fear it will come sooner. The 
Hawaiian Protective Association is stimulating racial 
pride in them so that they may take courage anew, and, 
with what sturdy men and women there still are, reju- 
venate the race. But the odds are against them, for 
besides disease and demoralization we have introduced 
Japanese, Chinese, and all sorts of other coolies who 
have completely undermined the Hawaiian status in the 
islands, and are rapidly outnumbering them in the birth- 
rate and survival rate. What factors are at work for 
possible regeneration will be discussed in a later chapter. 



SOME of the gravest mistakes the white man has made 
in his efforts to regenerate the Pacific peoples have 
been indirect rather than direct. This fact is best illus- 
trated by the method Australia and New Zealand resorted 
to in order to exterminate certain pests. To eliminate the 
rabbit they introduced the ferret. The ferret then be- 
gan to reproduce so rapidly that it, too, soon became a 
pest. So the cat was let loose upon the ferret. Forth- 
with the cat ran wild and is now one of the most serious 
problems in Australia. 

So has it been in the matter of many of the native 
races. Commercial greed, which was not satisfied to use 
what native labor was extant because it is never the man- 
ner of natives to be willing serfs to their conquerors, 
looked everywhere about for people who might be im- 
ported under crushing conditions and then cast out. It 
was that which created the Japanese and Chinese situa- 
tion in Hawaii ; and it is that which has created a similar 
situation in Fiji. 

One would have to be an unadulterated sentimentalist 
to contend that the passing of the natives is not justified 
by the present development of the Antipodes. None of 
the native elements — the Australoids or the Tasmanians 
or the Maories — would, of their own accord, even with 
years of Caucasian example and precedent, have made 
of these dominions the healthful, productive lands they 
now are. As long as the problem remains one of the 
ascendancy of the fittest over the fit, it is simple, and the 



present solution justifiable. But the introduction of other 
races who have only their servility to recommend them is 
a poor practice and soon turns into a more serious prob- 
lem still. In most cases, a little patience and foresight 
would have obviated such contingencies. Had the white 
folk who tried to exploit Hawaii contented themselves 
with a slower development, the Hawaiians would to-day 
be as secure as are the Samoans and the Maories. 
In all cases such as these and that of the Philippines, the 
native, when given a chance, soon justifies his existence 
and our faith in him. 

In Fiji we have an example of the introduction of the 
Hindu to the extinction of the Fijian for the sake of the 
enrichment of the white man. The indentured Indian, 
small and wiry, who seems too delicate for any task and 
is stopped by none, acts as a reinforcement in the South 
Sea labor market. He glides along in purposeful in- 
difference. As coolie, he may be seen at any time wend- 
ing his way along Victoria Parade, bareheaded, a thin 
sulu of colored gauze wound about his loins. As freed 
man, he is the tailor, the jeweler, the grocer, and the 
gardener. As proprietor he is buying up the lands and 
becoming plantation-owner. Then he bewails the woes 
of his native land, India, far off in the distance. Here 
in Fiji, where the coolie has a chance to start life anew, 
the longing for rebirth in this world, still fresh, bursts 
into being. But no sooner does it see the sunlight than 
it turns to crush the Fijian, in whose lands the Hindu is 
as much of an invader as ever Briton was in India. 

The introduction of the Indian into Fiji was not ac- 
complished without considerable protest from small 
planters, who saw in it and the taxation scheme intro- 
duced over thirty years ago, great danger to the Fijian la- 
borer. Aside from the burdens imposed upon the people 
by a law which compelled them to work for their chiefs 
without wages, for the same length of time that they 


worked for some plantation-owner with wages, there was 
the equally bad law being ** experimented^* with which 
compelled the people to pay in kind instead of in money. 
So serious had the situation become that the *' Saturday 
Review** of June 19, 1886, declared: *'As the Natives 
must eat something to live, it is perhaps not unnatural 
that many people who know Fiji entertain distinct fears 
that the combination of over-taxation and want of food 
will drive the Fijians to return to cannibalism.** The 
charge of cannibalism was denied by the Rev. Mr. 
Calvert, though further evidence is not at hand, as I have 
seen only the Government *s side of the case. 

However, with the admission of some 3,800 Indians 
as indentured laborers in 1884 (or thereabouts) among 
a population of 115,000 natives, the vital statistics of 
the islands have changed so that there were only 87,096 
Fijians against 40,286 Indians in 1911, and 91,013 Fijians 
against 61,153 Indians in 1917. This would seem to in- 
dicate a healthier state of affairs for the Fijians as well 
as for the Indians, were not the comparison of births with 
deaths for the last year named taken into consideration. 
This shows that to 3,267 births there were 2,583 deaths 
among the Fijians; while among the Indians the births 
were 2,196 as against only 588 deaths. This proportion 
obtained also in 1911. The struggle between the Fijians 
and the indentured Indians, even if the former were not 
to become extinct within the century, would place the 
Fijians in the minority in no time ; and what were their 
lands would be theirs no more. 

This, briefly, is the story of the submersion of the 

In itself, the situation is not very serious. What if the 
Fijian passes, or gives way to the Indian? The con- 
tribution of the Fijian to the culture or the romance 
of the Pacific is small compared with that of other races, 
such as the Samoans or the Marquesans. Of that more 
anon. But there are problems involved that are of more 

It is a procession of gesticulating, grimacing savages whose protruding tongues are not the least 

At Ngaruawahia. North Island, N. Z. 


immediate import. Two races like these cannot live to- 
gether without creating a situation of strength or of 
weakness that is very far-reaching. We are concerned 
with the attitude they assume toward each other, or in 
the substitution of a race like the Indians, with their 
fixed traditions and destructive castes, which will intro- 
duce Hindu problems into the very heart of the Pacific. 
India is no longer within bounds, and sooner or later we 
shall be face to face with new conditions. In eliminating 
the Fijian or the Hawaiian, or any other Pacific islander, 
by the Indian or the Japanese coolie process, we are 
only intensifying the difficulty, unless we are ready com- 
pletely to overlook the questions of likes and dislikes. 

In Fiji one is not yet compelled to ask, '* Where are the 
FijiansT* As long as one's gaze is fixed slightly 
upward, the Fijian face with the bushy head of coarse, 
curly hair stands out against the green of the hills. But 
let the eye fall earthward and the resultant confusion 
of forms and manners forthwith raises the problem of 
the survival of the fittest. For among these towering 
negroids there now dwell over sixty thousand Telugus, 
Madrasis, Sardars, Hindustanis, and a host of other such 
strange-sounding peoples from India, and ^^ Sahib'' 
greets one's ears more frequently than the native salu- 
tation. In the smaller hotels the bushy head bows ac- 
knowledgment of your commands; in the one fashion- 
able and Grand Hotel the turban does it. In the course 
of the day's demands for casual service, the assistant is 
the stalwart one; for the more permanent work — as, 
for instance, the making of a pongee silk suit — the artisan 
is the slender one. If your mood is for sight of sprawl- 
ing indolence, you wander along the little pier and open 
places among the Fijians; if it is for the damp, cool, 
darkly kind to help you visualize the dreams of the Ara- 


bian Nights, you enter some little shop in an alley with 
an unexpected curve, in the district of transplanted India. 

Feeling venturesome, I let fancy be my guide, though, 
to tell truth, I was escaping from the burning sun. Life 
on the highway was alluring, but, large as the Fijian is, 
his shadow is no protection. I hoped for some sight of 
him within-doors. The row of shops which walls in the 
highway, links without friction the various elements of 
Suva^s humanity. In a dirty little shop I ran into an 
unusual medley of folk. A blind Indian woman in one 
corner; a Fijian chatting with an Indian in another; a 
boy whistling *' Chin-chin '' ; boys and girls fooling with 
one another ; while in the little balcony, like a studio bed- 
room hung in the deeper shadows of the rafters, slept 
one whose snoring did not lend distinction to his pa- 
ternity. The place was evidently a saloon, but minus 
all the glitter so requisite in colder regions. Here the 
essential was dampness and coolness and improvised 
night. Hence the walls had no windows and the floors 
no boarding. Hence the brew had need of being cool 
and cutting, regardless of its name; and whether one 
called it yagona, hava, huza or beer, it had the effect of 
making a dirty little dungeon in hiding not one whit 
worse than the Grand Hotel in the beach breezes. Better 
yet, where in all Fiji was fraternization more simple? 

Still, too much love is not lost between the sleepy 
Fijian dog and his Indian flea. Does the Fijian not hear 
the white man — whom he respects, after a fashion — call 
his slim competitor ^^ coolie f And is not huli the word 
with which he calls his dog? Infuriated, conscious of his 
centuries of superiority, the Indian retorts with jungli, 
and feels satisfied. His indentured dignity shall not 
decay. At any rate, he knows and proves himself to be 
the cleverer. The future is his. While the Fijian, see- 
ing that the importation the white man calls ^^dog'' gets 
on in life none the less, seeks to steep himself in the 
Indian's immorality and trickery in the hope that he 


may thereby acquire some of that shrewdness, as when 
he devoured a valiant enemy he hoped to absorb that 
enemy's strength. Thus in that dark little underworld 
the Fijian Adonis vegetates in anticipation of the future 
Fiji some day to spring into being. 

Though the Indians are said to despise the Fijians, I 
saw representatives of the two races sitting sociably to- 
gether upon the launch up the Rewa River, smoking and 
chatting quite without any signs of friction. Indian 
women, all dressed in colored-gauze raiment and laden 
with trinkets, huddled behind their men. They seemed a 
bit of India sublimated, cured of the ills of overcrowding. 
One woman had twelve heavy silver bracelets on each 
wrist, a number on her ankles, several necklaces and 
chains around her neck, and many rings on each of her 
fingers and toes, with ornaments hanging from her nose 
and ears. But there was more than vanity in this, for, 
pretty as she was, she refused to permit me to photo- 
graph her. Not so the men. One Indian had his flutes 
with him and began to play. His eyes rolled as he forced 
out the monotonous tones, over and over again. His 
heart and his soul must have had a hard time trying to 
emerge simultaneously from these two tiny reeds. One 
bearded patriarch smiled and rose with a jerk when I 
asked if he would pose for me. A young Indian woman 
crouched on the floor, all covered with her brilliantly col- 
ored veil. She shared a cigarette with a Fijian boy in a 
most Oriental fashion. But those who know distrust 
this fraternization. It is the subtle demoralization of the 

For the type of Indian men and women who now 
accept the terms of indenture are even worse than those 
who did so formerly, and the conditions under which 
they are compelled to carry out their ** contracts ' ' are 
such as to develop only the worst traits of Indian nature. 
In consequence, the Fijian is being ground between the 
upper (white) and nether (Indian coolie) mill-stones. 


His primitive taboos which worked so well are taboos 
no longer. The missionary has destroyed them well- 
meaningly; the plantation-owner has preyed upon them 
knowingly, has turned the predatory native chiefs upon 
them ; and now the riffraff of India is loose upon them, 
too. I am convinced, from what I saw in the missionary 
settlements, that had the missionaries alone been left 
to lead these people away from barbarism, they would 
have accomplished it, — as they partially have. But un- 
fortunately, the one weakness in their civilizing process, 
the overestimation of minor conventions, such as the 
wearing of clothing, only left an opening for the intake 
of diseases and defects of our civilization. The insistence 
on monogamy is another weakness, for to that the steady 
decline of the native can be traced. 

This dual process of degradation going on in Fiji is 
a great disappointment to the adventurous. Though the 
natives number 91,000, their ancient rites and festivities 
are without newer expression, without newer form. And 
though one hears much of Fiji as another India, because 
nearly half the population is Indian, still, as C. F. 
Andrews has pointed out, the utter absence of anything 
Indian in the architecture, the religious practices, or the 
other expressions of Indian ideals leaves one wondering 
what is wrong with that newer world. Everywhere one 
hears the appeal, ^'Give the man a chance,^' and democ- 
racy and the advocates of self-determination for nations 
repeat and repeat the plea. One believes that somehow 
if India were partially depopulated and the remaining 
Indians were given a chance, the soul which is India 
would blossom with renewed life and glory. One be- 
lieves that here in Fiji such a miracle might occur. But 
no promise of regeneration greets the seeker, go where 
he may. Then, too, there is sonxething lacking in the 
native. One is led to conclude that the inhibitions upon 
the mind and the soul of all the Fijians, through the 
preaching of doctrines strange to them, or through the 


practices of foreigners over them, has put the seal upon 
their lips. Trying to approximate the ruling religions 
and to live in their ways must create emotional complexes 
in the natives that are clogging the wells of their beings. 
From Suva for forty miles up the Rewa River, the 
only manifestation of life is in labor. Aside from the 
crude ornaments on the limbs of the women of India 
there is virtually nothing of art or higher expression to 
be seen. Nothing but the tropical loveliness, which can- 
not be denied. 

The regeneration of the Fijian seemed more possible 
after I had spent a few moments in the hut of the chief 
of the district. In the middle of the village stood one 
plain, unpainted wooden house, distinctive if not palatial. 
It was altogether wanting in decoration and with us 
might have passed as a respectable shed. But here, sur- 
rounded by thatched huts, picturesque when not too close- 
ly scrutinized, it assumed exceeding importance through 

The door, reached by a flight of four or five steps, stood 
wide open. The interior was not partitioned into rooms. 
Half of it was a raised platform-like divan or sleeping- 
section, spread with native mats. Upon this elevation 
sat a fine-looking man, — clean-shaven, with a head as 
bald as those of his brethren are bushy, dressed in clean 
and not inexpensive materials, and wearing a gold watch 
on his left wrist. On my being introduced, he greeted 
me in English so fluent and pure that I was considerably 
taken aback. He was as self-possessed as most Fijians 
are shy. This was Ratu Joni, Mandraiwiwi, chief of 
eighty thousand Fijians, one of the only two native mem- 
bers of the Legislative Council, highly respected, and 
the most powerful living chief of his race. 

He remained seated in native fashion, legs crossed 
before him, and after a few general remarks indicated a 


desire to resume his confab with the half-dozen natives — 
all big, powerful men — facing him on the lower section 
of the chamber. His reception of me was cordial, yet 
his was the reserve of a prime minister. His bearing 
gave the impression of a man intelligent, calm, just, and 
not without vision. He knew his rank. Had I been a 
native and dared to cross his door-step — plebeian that 
I am — I should most likely have seen dignity in anger. 
But, though an insignificant white man, I still bore the 
mark of **rank'^ sufficient to gain admission unceremoni- 
ously and was given a place beside him on the divan. 
But he had an uncanny way of making me feel suddenly 
extremely shy. I was aware of intruding, of having been 
presumptuous, — an uninvited guest. So I withdrew. 

The district over which he rules, though inferior to 
many another in productivity, has always had the rep- 
utation for being well kept up and in healthful condi- 
tion and was pointed out as an example to the other 
chiefs as early as 1885. At Bau, five miles the other 
side of the river, Ratu Joni has a home European in 
every detail. It forms an interesting background for his 
European entertainments. His income is enough to make 
a white man envious. One son, an Oxford man, was 
wounded in Flanders at the outbreak of the war ; another 
was at the time attending college in Australia. Ratu 
Joni is Roho (native governor) of the province of 
Tailevu (Greater Fiji). 

Mr. Waterhouse, the missionary who kindly went about 
with me and made it possible for me to meet this chief 
and to understand some of the native problems, gave me 
a brief story of this impressive man's life. Though his 
father had been hanged or strangled for plotting against 
the life of the chief who ruled then, Ratu Joni succeeded 
in making his way to the fore in Fijian politics. He set 
himself the task of cleaning up his country. Of him it 
could not be said that he ever had reason to be ashamed 
of his rule. Of him none could say as did a British 


governor in a speech say of another Fijian: **What! has 
this chief been indolent? Perhaps he limes his head, 
paints his face, and stalks about, thinking only of him- 
self; or is it that he squabbles with his neighbors about 
some border town, and lets his people starve T' 

One cannot judge a people by the conditions of its 
chiefs or rulers; but with regard to the natives of the 
Pacific, as in the case of other people accustomed to the 
rigorous life of battle, their safety lies in the uses to 
which they have been put by their conquerors. The 
British Government has utilized the Sikhs, its most dif- 
ficult Indians, by making them the constabulary through- 
out the length and breadth of its Asiatic empire. This 
has been done iii Fiji, too. But the most hopeful sign 
to me in these islands on the 180th meridian was the 
Fijian constabulary. A finer lot of men could not be 
found anywhere in the world. Not only their physique 
but their intelligent faces and their alacrity suggest great 
promise. One of them came on board our ship with his 
clean, tidy, sturdy wife — a public companionship rare for 
these people — and was received by the officers. His white 
sulu, serrated on the edge like some of the latest fashions 
on Broadway, hung only to his knees. His massive legs 
and broad shoulders were a delight to look upon. His 
wife was as handsome a woman as I have seen in the 
tropics. The two gladly posed for me, and asked me to 
send them a print. 

Generally the thought and feeling of the natives in 
the South Seas come to the outer world through the works 
of white men, — ^missionaries and scientists. But rare 
indeed is the revelation of the mind of a strange people 
brought to us pure and clear without the white man 's bias 
or reaction. Here and there I have run across snatches of 
native thinking that were revelations, but no others so 


full and vivid as the essay by a native Fijian on the de- 
cline of his race, which appeared in the ^'Hibbert Jour- 
nal' ' (Volume XI). The translator opens the door to the 
Fijian mind as by magic. After reading that, I felt that 
personal contact with these natives akin to contact with 
any other human being, for I looked behind dark skin 
and bushy head, and saw the spirit of hope within. The 
translator says: 

It shows exactly how an intelligent Fijian may conceive Christianity. 
That is a point we need to know badly, for most missionaries see the 
bare surface. It also contains hints how the best intentions of a gov- 
ernment may be misconstrued, and suspicion engendered on one side, 
impatience and reproaches of ingratitude on the other, which a more 
intimate knowledge of native thought might remove. 

The argument of the essay is that ^ * The decline of na- 
tive population is due to our abandoning the native 
deities, who are God's deputies in earthly matters. God 
is concerned only with matters spiritual and will not 
barken to our prayers for earthly benefits, A return 
to our native deities is our only salvation." 

The native reflects : 

Concerning this great matter, to wit the continual decline of us 
natives at this time, it is a great and weighty matter. For my part 
I am ill at ease on that account; I eat ill and sleep ill through my 
continual pondering of this matter day after day. Three full month^ 
has my soul been tossed about as I pondered this great matter, and in 
those three months there were three nights when pondering of this 
matter in my bed lasted even till day, and something then emerged in 
my mind, and these my reflections touch upon religion and touch upon 
the law, and the things that my mind saw stand here written below. 

He then takes up the points that have disturbed him : 

Well, if the very first thing that lived in the world is Adam, whence 
did he come, he who came to tell Eve to eat the fruit? From this 
fact it is plain that there is a Prince whom God created first to be 
Prince of the World, perchance it is he who is called the Vu God 
[Noble Vu] .... Consider this : It is written in the Bible that there 
were only two children of Adam, to wit Cain and Abel. But whence 
did the woman come who was Cain's wife? . . . 

It seems to me as though the introducers of Christianity were slightly 
wrong in so far as they have turned into devils the Vu Gods of the 
various parts of Fiji; and since the Vu Gods have suddenly been 
abandoned in Fiji, it is as though we changed the decision of the 


Great God, Jehovah, since that very Vu God is a great leader of the 
Fijians. That is why it seems to me a possible cause for the Decline 
of Population lies in the rule of the Church henceforth to treat alto- 
gether as devil work the ghosts and the manner of worshiping the 
Vu Gods of the Fijians, who are their leaders in the life in the flesh, 
whom the Great God gave, and chose, and sent hither to be man's 
leader. But now that the Vu Gods whom Jehovah gave us have been 
to a certain extent rudely set aside, and we go to pray directly to the 
God of Spirit for things concerning the flesh [life in the flesh], it 
appears as if the leader of men resents it and he sets himself to crush 
our little children and women with child. Consider this: 

If you have a daughter, and she loves a youth and is loved of him, 
and you dislike this match, but in the end they none the less follow 
their mutual love and elope forthwith and go to be married, how is it 
generally with the first and the second child of such a union, does it 
live or does it die? The children of Fijians so married are as a rule 
already smitten from their mother's womb. Wherefore? Does the 
woman's father make witchcraft? No. Why then does the child die 

Simply that your Vu sees your anger and carries out his crushing 
even in its mother's womb ; that is the only reason of the child's death. 
Or what do you think in the matter? Is it by the power of the devil 
that such wonders are wrought? No, that is only the power that 
originates from the God of Spirit, who has granted to the Prince of 
men, Vu God, that his will and his power should come to pass in the 
earthly life. 

He develops this theme with ever-increasing emotion, 
until his poor mind can think no more. 

Alas! Fiji! Alas! Fiji is gone astray, and the road to the salva- 
tion of its people is obstructed by the laws of the Church and the 
State. Alas! you, our countrymen, if perchance you know, or have 
found the path which my thoughts have explored and join exertions 
to attain it, then will Fiji increase. 

But Fijians have prayed to God, yet they have not 
increased, he exclaims, faced with the unalterable facts. 
Why not? Christianity has been with them many years. 
Does God hear their prayer? He proceeds to give his 
own observations of life, and asks: '^Is this true, rev- 
erend sirs? Yes, it is most true.*' After making some 
comparisons between his land and others, neglected of 
God in that they have no Vu Gods, he expostulates : 

And if the Vu were placed at our head . . . there would be no 
still births and Fiji would then be indeed a people increasing rapidly, 
since our conforming to our native customs would combine with prog- 
ress in cleanly living at the present time. Now, in the past when the 


ancients only worshiped Vu Gods and there was no commandment 
about cleanly living, yet they kept increasing. Then if . . . this were 
also combined with the precept of cleanly living, I think the villages 
would then be full of men. Or what, sir, is your conclusion 1 

A few more excerpts, taken here and there, will reveal 
the interesting mind of this Fijian ; 

If this is right, then it is plain how far removed we are from certain 
big countries. How wretched they are and weak, whose medicines are 
constantly being imported and brought here in bottles.^ As for me, I 
simply do my duty in saying what appears in my mind when I think 
of my country and my friends who are its inhabitants; for since it 
wants only a few years to the extinction of the people it is right that 
I reveal what has appeared in my soul, for it may be God's will to 
reveal in my soul this matter. Now it is not expedient for me to 
suppress what has been revealed to me, and if I do not declare what 
has appeared from forth my soul, I have sinned thereby in the eyes 
of the Spirit God: I shall be questioned regarding it on the day of 
judgment of souls; nor is it fitting that one of the missionaries should 
be angry with me by reason of my words; it is right that they should 
consider everything that I have here said, and judge accordingly. It 
is no use being ashamed to change the rules of the Church, if the 
country and its inhabitants will thereby be saved. 

There is great hope for a people with such thinkers 
among them. And if there are such hopes for the 
Fijians, there are still greater possibilities for the 
Maories, Samoans, Tahitians, and Hawaiians. 

Politically, as separate island races, they are no more. 
The little Kingdom of Earotonga is one of the last to 
remain independent. The European war, oddly enough, 
in which Maories and Fijians fought for **the rights of 
little nations,'' has sold them out completely, just as 
it did Shantung in China. No one thought that a war 
in a continent fifteen thousand miles away would play 
such havoc with the destinies of these people. The 

* The translator says in a footnote: "Whites pity Fijians, but they find 
reasons to pity us. That is what white men generally fail to realize; they 
put down to laziness or stupidity their reluctance to assimilate our civili- 
zation, whereas it arises from a difl'erent point of view; and that point of 
view is not always wrong or devoid of common sense. Is Fijian medicine 
more absurd than our patent medicines, or as expensive?" 


** mandates,'^ yielded with such cynical generosity, put 
the seal upon their fate, and opened new international 

Pessimistic as this may sound, there are evidences of 
resuscitation in the working out of these mandates, as 
will appear in the chapter on Australasia. The Polyne- 
sians are becoming conscious of unity, and talk of lead- 
ership under the New Zealand mandate is rife in Parlia- 
ment. ** Nothing would hasten the depletion of the race 
more than the loss of hope and confidence in themselves, ' ' 
says the Hawaiian *^ Friend.'' That hope seems to be 
flickering into new life. 

No people have suffered more, directly, from contact 
with the ^* civilized'' white races than the Polynesians. 
Morally undermined, politically deprived of powers, 
physically subjected to scourge after scourge of epidemic 
introduced by white men, their own standards of living 
brushed aside as vulgar and infantile, — these heliolithio 
people with their neolithic culture approached the very 
verge of extinction. Then the white race began to sen- 
timentalize over them, and sincere scientific people to 
deplore their evanescence. Some of these latter have 
earned the eternal gratitude not only of the natives but 
of the whole world. Some of them I have mentioned in 
other connections. Two others decidedly deserve recog- 
nition. Mr. Elsdon Best, the curator of the Wellington 
Museum, is a tall, thin individual who has roamed all 
over the Pacific. He has worked his way for years in the 
interests of the Amerindians, Hawaiians, and Maories. 
Now he has one of the finest museums in the South Seas 
— excepting that, of course, in Honolulu — in which he 
treasures anything and everything that will help throw 
light on the history of these interesting people. The 
other is Mrs. Bemice Bishop, a part-Hawaiian woman, 
who established the museum in Honolulu which bears 
her name. These are the centers round which we white 
folk shall be able to gather for the preservation of this 


other type of the human species. In the summer of 1921 
a Scientific Congress under the auspices of the Pan- 
Pacific Union and the immediate directorship of Pro- 
fessor Gregory of Yale was held to devise ways and 
means of furthering the study of these races, and its 
work is proceeding apace. 

Museums and ^'models'' of native architecture are the 
modern white man's diaries, recalling the acts of ravish- 
ment and destruction which his development and expan- 
sion entailed. Let us hope that out of the efforts of 
scientists will spring a new consciousness of worth, which 
early missionaries and scheming traders did everything 
to destroy. Yet it must not be forgotten that much of 
our knowledge of these races comes from those mission- 
aries who were broad-minded enough to recognize the 
value of recording customs and beliefs, even if their pur- 
pose was the more effectively to counteract them. 



SOMETHING there is in the very bearing of the peo- 
ple in the Pacific which, despite the obvious differ- 
ences between us, strikes a note of kinship in the mind 
of the white man least conscious of his true relationship 
to these brown folk. A certain chemical affinity, as it 
were, makes the problem of intermarriage with the Poly- 
nesians an altogether different matter from that among 
Eurasians. For in the marriage of an Occidental and a 
true Oriental there is the clashing of two antagonistic 
cultures each equally complex and tenacious, while **here 
there is evidence in the physique of the people that three 
great divisions of mankind have intermixed.'^ 

But in the Pacific islands the white man feels himself 
among his kind. The reason is hard to explain. Cer- 
tainly it is not the loose and ungainly Mother-Hubbard 
gowns which are still the style of the native maiden. Yet 
the stoutish, portly individual who is introduced to you 
as a chief and who parades the street along the water- 
front in a suit of silk pajamas might easily be a conti- 
nental sleep-walker who has no remembrance of the 
thousands of years that lie between him and the men 
among whom he is waking. And the white man just ar- 
rived drops off under the anaesthetic influence of the 
tropics, forgetful of the thousands of years in which he 
has been busy laying up his treasures on earth. 

Under this narcotic influence I wandered along the 
shores of Apia, Samoa, toward sundown, the day before 
my departure. Within me was a melancholy satisfaction, 



an unwillingness to admit even to myself the tnitli that 
I was glad to go, like one conscious of being cured of a 
delightful vice. I had had my fill of association with 
men whose main theme of conversation when together 
was the virtues of whisky and soda as an antidote for 
dengue fever, and when apart, the faults of one another. 
I had watched the process of acclimatization as it attacks 
the souls of men, and pitied some of them. Many would 
have scorned my pity. Some did not deserve it. Others 
did not need it. The story of one is worth while, though 
it has no solution. 

He had been stationed in Samoa as a member of the 
military staff with police duties. Behind him he had 
left a wife and kiddies. He longed for them as only a 
man struggling against tropic odds to remain faithful to 
his promise needs must long. He was faithful, but she 
was fearful. She was writing to him daily not to forget. 
No woman forgets easily the ill-repute of her fellow- 
women, and all Northern women distrust their sisters of 
the warmer worlds. Women hear and believe that there 
is none of their kind of virtue in the tropics, and they 
do not trust the best of their men. They do not seem 
to be at all aware of the fact that faithfulness and devo- 
tion are as strong impulses in the breasts of the dark 
maidens as among themselves, and that semi-savage 
girls have hearts, too, which can be broken. So this 
man whose friendship I had won urged that I write to 
his wife and, in my own way, assure her of his loyalty. 
I have never heard the end. But if ever she reads this 
account, I hope she will believe in him. 

For there are women in the tropics, just like her, who 
pray that their men will be faithful. I was walking 
along, thinking of him and of her. The evening glow, 
full to overflowing of tropic loveliness, was all about. 
The white foam of the breakers dashing themselves 
against the reefs out there, a quarter of a mile away, 
came softly in, over the smooth water, to land. The 


laughter of little children on the beach seemed to tease, 
the hiss of the sea, a combination of elemental things 
utterly without tragedy. 

Just then I came upon a group of people gathered at 
the little pier. Strewn about their feet were trunks and 
bags and kits, indicating departure in haste, while the 
presence of a handful of soldiers, standing at attention, 
was an unspoken explanation of what was toward. The 
civilians clustered in a little group, quiet, communicat- 
ing with one another in whispers. They comprised sev- 
enteen Germans, erstwhile the wealthiest plantation- 
owners, now prisoners of war, and their wives and chil- 
dren, from whom they were to be parted. The cause of 
their departure is not pertinent here. The human equa- 
tion is. 

As the officer issued his order for embarkation, there 
was a momentary commotion. Soldiers, by no means un- 
friendly to their prisoners, assisted them in the placing 
of luggage on the boat. The men, turning to their women 
and children with warm embraces, called in forced cheer- 
fulness that they would soon be back. All the men 
stepped into the rowboats and with full, powerful strokes 
of Samoan oarsmen they were borne out across the reefs 
toward the steamer anchored beyond. Upon the beach 
remained bewildered native women and their half-caste 
children, some of them in an agony of grief now run 
wild. One family lingered, weeping silently. A group 
of two middle-aged women, a girl of about twenty, two 
small girls, and two boys stood gazing out toward the 
ship. They brushed away tears absent-mindedly. A 
little girl and boy cried quietly. And like that white wife 
in the temperate world, these dark-skinned women of the 
tropics were left to wonder whether their husbands would 
remain faithful to them in a world of which they had 
vague if not altogether wrong notions. 

A full, mellow afterglow threw the ship for a moment 
into relief, and twilight lowered. Upon the end pile of 


the pier sat a young Samoan in a halo of dim light. 
From this modern scene which may some day be the 
theme for a South Sea *' Evangeline^' I moved away won- 
dering what this cleavage of people would mean to the 
Polynesians. An unconscious curiosity led me into the 
village. It was night. From the various huts rang the 
voices of happy natives. Fires flamed under their even- 
ing meals. Dim lamps revealed shadow-figures of men 
and women. A slight drizzle brushed over the valley 
and disappeared. Then the firm tread of feet sounded 
in the dusty road. About twenty girls, two abreast, 
stamping their naked feet, passed by and on into the 
darkness to drop, matrice-like, each into her own home. 
Earlier that evening they had escorted to the ship 
the white woman who was their missionary teacher. 
One long skiff had held them all. Each had a single oar 
in hand, short and spear-headed, with which she struck 
the gunwale of the boat after every stroke, thus beating 
time to a native song. Here was another case of contact 
and cleavage. Their teacher was returning to her land, 
leaving them with the glimmer of her ideals, her notions 
of life and loyalty. How much of it would hold them? 
Coming and going, the fusion of races, once of a common 
stock, is taking place. 

I cannot recall having received any definite invitation 
from any of the principals responsible for the party I 
attended one evening in Apia, but in the islands the re- 
spectable stranger does not find himself lonely. It was 
sufiicient that I was a friend of one of the guests. Four 
young men who were leaving were given a send-off; and 
the celebrations were to take place in the little Sunday- 
school shack. 

That evening the little structure was metamorphosed 
from crude solemnity by a generous trimming in palm 
branches and flowers, as though it had been turned out- 

3 O 

§ 2 

-a < 

The father of the two girls was a lawyer and the sorx of a Sydney (Australia) clergyman 

Japanese seldom marry other than Japanese women 


■-• ^^'S 


The father is a white man — a New Zealand shepherd 



side in. Oil-lamps hung from the rafters by stiff wires, 
unyielding even to the weight of the light-giving vessels. 
The awkwardness of some of the natives in their relations 
with the whites could not be overcome even by their 
obvious inclination. But the music stirred us all into 
a whirl of equality. It was furnished by an old crone 
of a native woman. She was dressed in a shabby Mother- 
Hubbard gown and her feet were bare. Her stiff fin- 
gers worked upon the keys of an accordion in a sluggish 
fashion, as she confused old-fashioned barn-dances with 
sentimental melodies. She was stirred on to greater 
sentiment by the teasing approaches of one white man 
fully three-quarters drunk. As for the dancers, — what 
to them were half-expressed notes? Their own fresh 
blood more than overcame any lack. 

Pretty young flappers, eager for the arms of the 
white chaps, moved about among stolid dames whose 
purity of race revealed itself in russet skins and slightly 
flattened noses. They had finer features than the ma- 
trons. The white * * impurities ' ' shone out of them. But 
they were not quite free, not quite absolved from the 
weight of their primitive forebears. They were shy and 
had little to say for themselves, and it seemed they 
wished they could just cast off the high-heeled shoes and 
tight garments and be that which at least half of them- 
selves wished to be. Yet they were erect and proud, — 
and gay. 

Behind the curtain which hung across the little ros- 
trum stood tables fairly littered with bananas, mangos, 
and watermelons, mingled with the fruits of the North- 
ern kitchen stove, — cakes, pies, and meats enough to sat- 
isfy a harvesting-gang. And when the call to supper 
came, the invasion of this hidden treasure island and its 
despoliation proved that however much mankind may be 
differentiated socially and intellectually, gastronomically 
there is universal equality. 

There is another basis upon which the wide world is 


one, and that is in its affections. Long after midnight 
the party would have still been in progress but for the 
threat of the ferry-men. They wished to retire and an- 
nounced that the last boat was soon to start across the 
moon-splattered reefs. There was a hurried meeting 
of lips in farewell. The silver light revealed more than 
one sweet face crumpled before separation. Then with 
the first dip of their oars into the sea the swarthy oars- 
men began the song which, exotic and sentimental as 
it was, left every heart as aching for the shore as it did 
those of the simple half-caste maidens for their casual 
lovers of the colder Antipodes. 

**0h, I neva wi' fo-ge-et chu,*' drawled the oarsmen, 
and they on shore joined in with the softer voices of 
that gentler world. 

I had been an unknown and unknowing guest, paying 
my rates for keep at the hotel. For most of an hour I 
had been in a small upper room with three or four white 
men whose sole object seemed to be to get as drunk as 
they could and to induce me to join them. In those clear 
moments that flash across leary hours, they gave voice 
to their disapproval of intermarriage with the natives. 
Then I learned of the wedding taking place below. My 
curiosity led me downstairs, and though an utter 
stranger, I made my way into the company. Not for a 
moment did I feel myself out of place. Such is the na- 
ture of life in the tropics. Among those present were 
pretty half-caste maidens, slovenly full-blooded native 
matrons, men and women of all ages and conditions of 
attire. There were German-Samoans, English, English- 
Samoans, American and American-Samoans, with a 
salting of no (or forgotten) nationality. Some were in 
Mother-Hubbard gowns, some in pongee silks, some in 
canvas and white duck, cut either for street or evening 
wear. One young chap, the clerk at the customs, came 


dressed in the latest tuxedo. And a half-caste chief 
appeared in a suit of silk pajamas. 

The marriage-feast was as sumptuous as any that ever 
tempted the palate of man. It was spread not on acres, 
as in the olden days, but on a long table which stretched 
the length of the thirty-foot room. Photographs are 
everywhere sold displaying so-called cannibal feasts, 
with huge turtles and hundreds of tropical vegetables. 
However it may have been in those days, at this feast 
the guests were cannibal in manners only. They stood 
round the table and helped themselves with that disre- 
gard of to-morrow's headache and the hunger of the day 
after which is said to be primitive lack of economy. 

As the guests were led out into the dance-hall, one 
young stalwart took the remnant of the watermelon rind 
he had been gnawing and slung it straight at the pretty 
back of a Euro-Polynesian girl in evening frock. She 
tittered at him. The jollity was running too high for 
any one to be disturbed by anything like that. 

Soon the dance was in full swing. Not the tango, which 
we regard as primitive and wild, but sober editions of 
dances with us long out of date. The need is more press- 
ing in the tropics among folk of part-white parentage 
than an appearance of real civilization. And though it 
is not so long in the history of the Pacific since the com- 
ing of the first white man, there is already an interme- 
diate race growing up which, beginning with Samoa, 
spreads northward and southward and all around as far 
as the reaches of the sea. Nor is the mixture always to 
be deprecated. 

The night wore on. The dancing ceased. Flushed 
faces and perspiring forms slipped out into the moon- 
light. The white collar which had adorned the tuxedo of 
the clerk was now brother to the pajamas. The white 
men who had tried to drown their objections to inter- 
marriage had yielded to the lure of the pretty half-caste 
maidens. One of them now disappeared with his * * tart. * ' 


A traveling-salesman from Suva, thin and wiry, had 
been in dispute with a new civil officer. They contra- 
dicted each other just to be contrary. The officer had 
a wife at home to whom he was bound to be faithful in 
matters of sex; in the matter of spirits he could not be 
unfaithful, since in that all the world is one. When the 
two of them and I left the party, they were still disputing 
the question of intermarriage, in which neither believed 
but on which both had pronounced complexes. 

To change the subject, which was bordering on a fight, 
I asked : '^Why do the palms bend out toward the seaT' 

**Now, what difference does it make to youT^ said the 
salesman. ^ ' You 're always asking why this, why that ? ' * 

' < Why should n't he T ' grumbled the officer, more 
sober and more intelligent. 

We rambled along. The salesman soon slipped into 
his hotel. The officer and I wandered toward the native 

* * Strange, ' ' he said, somewhat sobered by the sea air. 
**If I met him in Auckland I wouldn't speak to him. 
He 's beneath me.'' 

Free and easy as the relationship of marriage seems 
to be here, one not infrequently runs across descendants 
of very happy and desirable unions. I had gone on a 
little motor jaunt with some of the men of the British 
Club. Our way was along the road the natives had built 
in gratitude to R. L. S., and our destination the home of 
a friend of his, who had married a native woman. The 
house was of European construction, solid and comfort- 
able, with a veranda affording a view of the open sea. 
The interior was in every way as typical of British colo- 
nial life as any I later saw in New Zealand. There 
were photographs on the wall, hanging shelves, bric-a- 
brac, a piano, — all importations of crude Western 

The hosts were Euro-Polynesians ; the father a lawyer 
and son of a clergyman of Sydney, Australia, who had 


settled in the islands years ago. I do not recall whether, 
like his closest friend, Stevenson, he was buried on the 
island, but certainly he left by no means unworthy off- 
spring, whatever prejudice may say. 

Thus, in the mixture of emotions often sterile, and in 
the bones of white devotees is the reunion of the races 
of these regions being slowly effected. And at the two 
extremities of the Pacific — New Zealand and Hawaii — ^we 
find the process nearer completion. 

In the journeys to and fro across the vast spaces 
of the South Pacific one rarely meets a white man who 
takes his native wife with him. One such I did meet 
when slipping down from Hawaii to the Fiji Islands. 
There were two couples on board who always kept more 
or less to themselves, two rough-looking white men, a 
white woman, and one who for all I could tell was a mid- 
dle-class Southern European woman. She wore simple 
clothes, — a blouse hanging over her skirt and comfort- 
able shoes. She was in no sense shy, laughed heartily, 
moved about with a self-conscious air of importance, 
but with ease, and made no effort to hide the curving 
blue lines of tattooing that decorated her chin. She was 
a Maori princess, and all the vigor of her race disported 
itself in the supple lines of her figure. 

Her husband, Mr. Webb, however, was not a British 
prince. Blunt in his manners, he was ultra-radical in 
his opinions, — a proud member of New Zealand's work- 
ing class. Domineering in his temperament he was, but 
she was a match for him. It was obvious that she had 
missed in her native training any lessons in subservience 
to a mere husband. She spoke a clear, broad, fluent 
English without the slightest accent, and when her ex- 
tremely argumentative husband made a strong point, 
she gave her assent in no mistaken terms. 


At table she was more mannerly than her spouse, 
though laboring under no difficulties whatever in the ac- 
quisition of food. I have never seen a person more self- 
possessed. Her royal lineage was writ large in her 
every expression. Though out on deck they both seemed 
somewhat out of place among the white folk and pre- 
ferred a corner apart, in the dining-room they were kin 
to all men. 

I found them both extremely interesting, and when 
the usual invitations were passed round for a continuance 
of the acquaintanceship after landing, I accepted theirs 
more readily than any other. Blunt and without finesse 
as they were, there was an obvious cordiality and virility 
in their manner, and no man alert to adventure turns so 
promising an offer aside. 

Months afterward I was in Auckland, New Zealand, 
and made myself known to them. Most cordial was the 
reception they gave me when I stepped upon the well- 
built pier that jutted out into the inlet from the little 
launch that brought me there. Back upon the knoll stood 
Madame, her heavy head of curly hair loose about her 
shoulders. Her very being greeted me with welcome, 
firmness of foot and arm and calmness of poise proclaim- 
ing her nativity. When I approached, her strong hand 
grasped mine, her face beamed, and she led the way over 
the grass-grown path to the porch with even more self- 
confidence than when she had gone to her seat in the 
saloon, on shipboard. 

Yet it was no saloon they led me into, but a simple 
hollow-tile structure with slate roofing and plain plas- 
tered walls. Just an ordinary four-roomed house, the 
haven of the rising pioneer. There were no decorations 
on the walls, no modem equipment of any kind, not even 
a stove. The table was machine-turned, the chairs ordi- 
nary, and on the mantelpiece stood some bleached photo- 
graphs. My hosts went about in their bare feet, and 
otherwise as loosely clad as the early November spring 


permitted. They prepared their meals on the open fire, 
and the menu was as simple as anything ever offered 
me; and for the first time in my life I ate boiled eels, 
the great Maori staple and delicacy. Had it not been 
for the emanation of her genial personality and his vig- 
orous, breezy, almost hard pleasure in my presence, I 
should have felt chilled in that habitation. But in place 
of things was sincere welcome. I had proof of that that 
night, for I was placed in the guest-room, upon a soft, 
comfortable bed, while my hosts themselves spread a 
mattress on the floor in the living-room. Lest I misun- 
derstand, they explained that it was their custom, Maori 
fashion, to sleep on the floor, as they preferred the hard 
support to that of the yielding spring. 

I woke next morning just as the sun peeped over the 
hill directly into my window. It was a sober dawn, — 
just a healthy flush of life, with crisp, invigorating air. 
One branch of a young kauri pine-tree stretched across 
the rising orb like nature rousing itself from sleep. And 
in the other room I could hear my hosts moving quietly 
about, preparing breakfast. 

Without word of warning or any apparent welcome, 
the wife's brother and his young bride arrived. It was 
obvious that the visit was no unusual occurrence. They 
made themselves as much a part of the place as possible, 
and were ignored by the white man and his Maori wife 
as though they were servants. Yet they were both, to 
me at least, delightful. He was broad-shouldered, erect, 
rounded of limb but muscular, — as handsome a boy of 
twenty as I have ever seen, and it gave one joy to see 
him mated to so fine a girl. Their beings vibrated to 
each other with the joy of their union. 

And she was as fine a mate for him. Though she ac- 
centuated every feature of her sex, it was with the joy 
of fitness for him, not with any effort to be alluring. She 
wore a very close fitting middy-blouse, which made more 
firm the rounded breasts of her young maidenhood. She 


was supple and plump and moved with litheness and 
grace, full of animal spirits. With an affected air she 
swung about to the step of an American rag, and every 
once in a while she would throw herself into her lover's 
arms, and take a turn about out of sheer happiness. It 
had never occurred to me how extremely civilized and 
not primitive our rag-time music is until I saw these 
young ^* savages'' affect it. But however ill-fitting the 
tune to their emotions, there was something absolutely 
natural in their adoration and their rushing into each 
other's arms which no amount of civilization could 

In the afternoon they went digging for eels in the mud 
of the inlet. While they were gone, my host and his wife 
cleared the yard of overgrown weeds and rubbish. 

^^That 's the way they are," said he. *^A11 day long 
they dance and fool away their time. They think they 've 
done a lot if they dig for eels all afternoon. When we 
went away to Hawaii we left them to look after our 
house without charging them any rent. This is what 
we found when we returned. The whole place was over- 
grown with weeds, the fences were broken down, the 
gates were off, and the place was strewn with rubbish. 
They don't know what it is to be careful. And he 
struck a match to the heap of weeds he and his wife had 

Presently the two lovers returned with a basket full 
of eels. The young '* housewife" hung her catch by the 
tails on the clothes-line to dry, and in a pail of clear 
water washed the mud-suckers they had gathered as by- 
product. Then they felt they were entitled to rest. 

All afternoon until late evening they lay upon the 
spring of an unused matressless bedstead, which stood 
upon the veranda. Their heads were at the opposite 
ends of the bed. He kicked his feet in the air, but every 
time a move of hers showed more of her legs than he 
thought proper, he pulled down her tight skirt. He held 


an accordion over him upon which he played a medley of 
airs, while she whirled a soft hat with her fingers. From 
their throats issued a fountain of song, harmonious only 
in the spirit of joy which inspired it. 

So far they might just as well have been guests at a 
hotel for all the attention their elders paid to them. We 
had had our meals by ourselves. They were simply tol- 
erated. But after nightfall, they joined their relatives 
in a game of cards. Every move provoked a burst of 
laughter, whether successful or unsuccessful to the 
hilarious one, and never a suggestion of strife or thought 
of gain was manifest. 

The Maories are more sober than their kinsmen of the 
upper South Seas. Life was never to them less than a 
serious struggle. I daresay they are happier to-day 
than they were in their own time, with peace and pros- 
perity guaranteed them. But that is problematical. 
Laughter and play are to-day urgent necessities. The 
dances and games that were native to them — when not 
stimulated by some social event — do not come to them 
with the same old spontaneity. It took considerable 
begging on my part and nudging from Mr. Webb to 
persuade the women to show me a native dance. Don- 
ning her skirt of rushes, Mrs. Webb stepped into the 
center of the room, giggling all the while, and insisting 
that her sister-in-law dance with her. The latter took a 
stick in her hand and they began. But after two or 
three movements they doubled over with laughter, and 
faltered. I kept urging them on. At last they caught 
the spirit of it, and for a few minutes they were as though 
possessed. Their movements, mainly of the hands and 
hips, were not unlike those of the geisha dances of Japan. 
They kept them up for fifteen minutes. Suddenly they 
stopped, as though struck self-conscious, almost as a 
modest girl who had wakened from a somnambulant 
journey in her nightgown. They slipped into chairs, 
and were silent. Then for about half an hour they sat 


** yarning' ' soberly before the hearth fire. And some- 
thing sad seemed to creep away up the chimney. 

The two young lovers decided they would take a bath, 
and went into another chamber to heat the water. My 
bed was spread for me ; the hosts unrolled the mattress 
which had been lying in the comer on the floor all day. 
We retired. Then from the other room came sounds of 
hilarious laughter, the splashing of water in the tub, and 
the slapping of naked wet flesh. It kept up for hours, 
long after midnight. When silence finally reigned over 
the household, an adorably cool moon peeped in at our 
windows, and I knew that the two lovers in the room 
next mine were at last overcome by the conspiracy of 
moonlight and fatigue. 

**Did you hear those mad MaoriesT' said Mr. Webb 
to me the first thing in the morning. * * Such mad things ! 
To keep the whole house awake till long after midnight ! ' ' 
Then he, too, seemed to become self-conscious. Wasn't 
he passing reflections on the tribe of his wife? We 
strolled out into the fields. He seemed to feel the neces- 
sity of an explanation. Among his people, the white 
folk, though he was not ostracized for having taken a 
native wife (for it is common enough), still it did lower 
one in the social scale. I steered the conversation round 
till he himself spoke of it. He referred to his wife, 
somewhat soberly. '^I like her and am satisfied with 
her. She 's a good woman." And during the whole of 
my visit I saw nothing to indicate that their marriage 
was not a success. She was tidy, thrifty, and compan- 
ionable. He always treated her with respect and affec- 
tion, though once or twice with undue firmness. But she 
always stood her ground with dignity and good-nature. 
When he poked kindly fun at some photographs of her, 
she smiled and winked at me. Then she said of a picture 
taken of him on the beach : ^ * I would n 't lose it for all 
the world, just for his sake." 

By way of apology for the absence of more furnish- 


ings, they explained that they had sold out; they were 
tired of labor conditions in New Zealand, of the too great 
closeness to the ** tribe ^* and in consequence had paid a 
visit to Hawaii, where they bought a plantation. Thither 
they went shortly afterward, the Briton and his Maori 
wife, he to mix with his European cousins, she with her 
Polynesian kinsfolk, and a more general reunion, after 
centuries of separation, consummated. 

Not the least lovable among the fifty-seven blends of 
humanity that make up the inhabitants of the South 
Seas and the Pacific are these Maories and their half- 
brothers and sisters. 

From a Member of Parliament I had received several 
letters of introduction, one of which was to the famous 
Dr. Pomare, the native M. P. who represented native 
interests in the Dominion's parliament. When I arrived 
at Wellington, the capital, I presented myself at his 
office and was received by a most genial, well-spoken, 
widely read individual whose tongue would have enter- 
tained the most sophisticated of European gatherings. 
There was hardly a subject we touched in which he was 
not well versed, and his native qualities rang out in 
intermittent bursts of laughter such as only a healthy- 
minded and healthy-bodied individual could indulge in. 
When we began to discuss the question of the virtues 
and vices of his native race, the Maories, he assured me : 

* * Oh, we 're just like any people. There are good and 
bad amongst us. Some of our people will sell their 
lands, if they can, and buy an automobile which they run 
madly about and then leave in an open plot in ruin. On 
the other hand, one of our women has been very clever 
with her property, has sold it off, and invested her money 
in stocks so that to-day she owns the greatest number of 
shares in the Wellington tram lines. So you see we are 
just like other people.'' 


And so it is. But there is a slight exception, for I 
have heard from every one that the tendency to revert 
to type is very great, and that one of the wealthiest 
native woman in the Dominion will frequently leave her 
mansion, her jewels, her limousine, her fine clothes, and 
spend a time in a Maori pah, eating eels in the good old 
native way. 

But such reversions cannot last long. Despite that 
drift, there are indications of a racial recrudescence 
through the half-castes, a tendency noticed by students 
of the primitive peoples throughout the Pacific. Hope 
for the Maories is in the younger elements who have that 
happy mixture in them, called Pakeha-Maori. Visiting 
a class of young women in a commercial school in Dune- 
din I noticed among them one whose dark face and black 
eyes were full of a certain wicked fascination. She was 
as bright and alert as any member of the class. And 
when I spoke of her to the head of the school, he said, 
^'Oh, that little half-caste girl.*' I should not have 
known it. 

One does not like to be too enthusiastic, but if these 
savage Polynesians can in the course of three genera- 
tions, and with the aid of a slight mixture, change from 
fierce cannibalism to something as sweet and lovable as 
this, there is indeed great hope for them. What though 
the prejudiced assure you that, however far the mixture 
may have gone, it reveals itself in a tendency to squat 
when least expected? There is in the most civilized of 
us still enough of the savage strain to make us wary of 
carrying our aversions too far. 

Doubtless the Britons of New Zealand would enter 
any debate with the Americans of Hawaii as to which is 
the superior people, the Maories or the Hawaiians. For 
our own peace of mind let us accept their Polynesian 
kinship at the outset. Both are worth saving as sepa- 
rate races or in mixture with others. 

The Maori M. P., the rebellious priest, Rua, later re- 


leased from prison, the Hawaiian clerk in the throne- 
room, the Fijian chief turned governor, the Samoan chief 
in pajamas who, with the customs officials, boarded the 
steamer anchored beyond the reefs, and Mrs. Webb, the 
princess, — all these are natives playing the new part al- 
lotted to them in this strange new world. 

Thus slowly, into the life and fabric of the South Seas, 
is coming this consciousness of rebirth. It is a new 
class, a new race. Not the Eurasians, scorned by the 
white and the superior Asiatics, — but the reverse. Half- 
caste, but the proud possessors of the virtues of the 
natives, with the strength and superiority of the white; 
half-caste in blood but not always so in spirit. 



CASUAL, impermanent, or broken as these nnions 
hitherto have been, their cyclonic process of attrac- 
tion and repulsion has created a suction drawing in both 
good and evil. The white sailor and vagabond who rav- 
ished the brown maiden never intended to father the con- 
sequences. But gradually, as communication increased 
and mutual interests developed, greater stability entered 
into the relations of the races. Marital contracts became 
necessary and, from the point of view of property and 
other acquisitions, even desirable. Readjustment of con- 
ceptions of sex grew urgent. This entailed the comple- 
ment, divorce. 

From all corners of the world came people whose 
notions of man 's relations with woman were as divergent 
as the seas. The Japanese and Chinese brought their 
Oriental attitude toward women ; the American his Occi- 
dental. Besides, with the passing of native control, 
European nations superimposed European regulations 
upon the islands. We have, then, the introduction of 
legalism into the casual affairs of the tropics, and the 
vanishing of primitive license. We have the Japanese 
woman, subject to the control of her husband, finding 
herself protected by the laws of another race. These 
raise her status and her self-respect. She rebels against 
unpleasant sex-unions. Divorce in these conglomerate 
regions, therefore, means the idealization of sex, rais- 
ing it above the stage of animal possession and material 
interest; based upon the sense of justice to woman, it 
recreates marriage, makes decent unions possible. 



Hence, in the wake of queer marriages we see even 
more queer divorces, as though hearts, having become 
self-conscious, seek a new chance. As age mellows racial 
associations, we find that men^s hearts the world over 
beat as one, and relationships which are at all compatible 
seek permanency, if not ^^ normalcy/' 

It was easy enough for a wanderer or a few hundred 
traders and romancers to leave their imprint on the 
native races. It is another matter when the native races 
are overwhelmed by a hundred thousand aliens of 
twenty-odd races, and the work of amalgamation falls 
to the lot of the white man. An altogether new problem 
manifests itself, — not only that of bringing them together 
in a legal and permanent manner, but of separating such 
types and individuals as cannot work for the betterment 
of the new race. 

Throughout the Pacific already reviewed, the mixture 
is as yet essentially accidental and occasional. But in 
no spot in the Pacific has the problem assumed such seri- 
ous proportions as in Hawaii, where, added to the great 
diversity of conglomerations, comes the factor of white 
and Asiatic superiority in number. As we have seen, 
the infusion of this flood of foreign blood into the thin 
native element has fairly swamped it. This jungle of 
humanity seems at first sight utterly beyond cultural 
purification. The streets throb with such multiplicity of 
little ways that one feels bewildered. One has to snatch 
a sample of the life and place it beneath the magnifying- 
glass of tradition and code to be able to separate it from 
the whole. And that I did one day in Honolulu. 

The sun was pouring down in veritable splutters of 
softness and mellowness. It was warm in an all-embrac- 
ing tenderness of warmth. To be in the shade with 
another human being was here as unifying in spirit as 
sitting before an open fire is on a blizzardy day in the 
North. And on such a day I entered the court-room of 
Honolulu. The dusty tread of people from every land 


has sounded across this court-house floor and all the 
simple tragedies of life with their hoarse warnings have 
been enacted within its walls. Hundreds of disappointed 
men and women have come into that room hoping to have 
their lives straightened out, their affections given a new 

When I entered, the court-room was empty. A mas- 
sive Hawaiian looked in, and walked away. Then a thin 
white man approached and, when he learned what brought 
me, he sat down on one of the wooden benches to talk to 
me. It was Judge William L. Whitney, who died in New 
York just recently. 

Presently, an emaciated-looking Chinese entered and 
sat down to wait. A small, wrinkled, sallow little woman 
from the Celestial Republic, accompanied by a com- 
patriot, came in after him, and seated herself a little 
distance away. Then came the fat Hawaiian again who 
had peered in earlier, and with that everything seemed 
in order. Judge Whitney left me, approached the bench, 
and, though he wore only his ordinary street clothes, he 
was forthwith crowned with the halo of his office. 

The proceedings began. Proceedings in this case 
meant great round eyes rolling in tremendous sockets, a 
tongue free with the dialects and linguistics of every 
mixture, and a temperament free from ambition or guile. 
The judge could speak no Chinese, the respondents could 
speak no English, the witnesses (of whom two strayed in 
later) could speak neither English nor Chinese, — and so 
among them the Hawaiian interpreter had all the fun to 
himself. Hie was in reality the dispenser of justice. 

The case was rehearsed. The Chinese was suing his 
wife for divorce. 

*' Where were you when you saw this man kiss your 
wifeT^ asked the judge. 

The interpreter took up the question in Chinese as 
though the language were part of his inheritance, and 


after the Chinese spoke, back came the reply through 
the lips of the Hawaiian, but in the first person. 

**I was in the garden. When I looked up into our bed- 
room I saw this man kiss my wife.*' 

The evidence was vague. To John Chinaman it meant 
more than a few facts, for his wife had borne him no off- 
spring. What a timid-daring attempt to reach out for 
new life ! At home he would just have dismissed her, but 
here it was different. Yet from their appearance it was 
doubtful that either of them would ever have the courage 
to try to live life over. 

This was only one of the many entangled lives that 
came to be straightened out in Hawaii. There are more 
than forty-seven different combinations of races there, 
such as American and American, German and German, 
Korean and Korean, Russian and Russian, Spanish- 
Marshall and English, Half-Hawaiian and Chinese- 
Hawaiian, Hawaiian and Chinese-Hawaiian, Hiawaiian 
and Hawaiian-Portuguese, Chinese and Chinese, Ha- 
waiian and Hawaiian, Portuguese and Portuguese, Span- 
ish and Spanish, Spanish-Hawaiian and Spanish- 
Hawaiian, Portuguese and Creole-Spanish-Portuguese, 
Chinese and Irish, American and Half -Hawaiian, Portu- 
guese and Pole, Half-Hawaiian and Half-Hawaiian, 
American and Hawaiian-Chinese, English and Half- 
Hawaiian, Japanese and American, American-Japanese 
and Japanese, Half-Hawaiian and German, Portuguese 
and Hawaiian, German and Irish, Hawaiian-Chinese and 
Spanish-Italian, Portuguese and Hawaiian-Chinese, 
Half-Hawaiian and Spanish, Porto-Rican and Porto- 
Rican, Oginawa and Oginawa, French-Port o-Rican and 
Porto-Rican, Swede and Portuguese, English and Eng- 
lish, Hawaiian and Chinese, American and French- 
Spanish, Portuguese and Japanese, American-Por- 
tuguese and German-Irish, Portuguese-Hawaiian and 
Portuguese, Portuguese and German-Irish, Portuguese- 
Hawaiian and Portuguese, Portuguese-Irish and Hawai- 


ian, Hawaiian and American-Negro, Portuguese-Hawai- 
ian-Chinese and Chinese. And I am certain that I can 
add another, that of my New Zealand acquaintance and 
his Maori wife. 

They are but one phase of the whole problem of the 
mixture of races and the melting of their silvers and 
bronzes down to the human essence within them. For 
there were in Judge Whitney's time on an average of 
two hundred and thirty couples divorced under that ceil- 
ing every year. Figures make human facts seem so re- 
mote that I hate to use them. As soon as figures are 
quoted the individuals lose their identity. That which is 
living and real becomes, as it were, an astronomical cal- 
culation and one might as well talk of stars. But the 
figures of the divorces in Hawaii are in themselves a 
living thing, as they interpret the life there more than 
words could do; so I'll risk giving a few of the figures 
Judge Whitney published while I was in Hbnolulu. 

The Japanese contributed 49% of the divorces in 
Hawaii, though they comprise only 34% of the popula- 
tion; the Americans, 7%, though they were 8% of the 
population. The rest were distributed among the other 
nationalities. This is how those statistics compared 
with divorce statistics in other countries. There were 
in England out of every hundred thousand inhabitants, 
two divorces per year; in Austria, one; in Norway, six; 
in Sweden, eight; in Italy, three; in Denmark, seventeen; 
in Germany, twenty-three; and in France, the same;, in 
the United States, seventy-three; and in the island of 
Oahu (Honolulu), four hundred. 

Hundreds of little folk, a host of children, have passed 
out of that room either fatherless or motherless. Back 
in the lands which they might have called home it would 
not have happened in just this way, or having happened 
so, it would not have had the same tragic meaning. For 
in Oriental countries fathers frequently put the mothers 
of their children aside. Yet, somehow the tragedies do 


not fret and strut in such distorted ways in lands where 
distortion is much more common, as in the East. In most 
Oriental countries it is enough for a man to say his wife 
talks too much and declare her divorced, but when he 
comes to the half-way house, Hawaii, he must be cruel, 
extremely cruel to his wife before the law will grant him 
a divorce. So he is ** cruel' ' in a way he may be sure will 
secure his freedom. 

What the results of all these mixtures will be, no one 
can as yet tell, but the consensus of opinion gives the 
Chinese-Hawaiian the prize for superiority. However 
promiscuous other races may be, the Japanese seldom 
stoops to conquer in that way. The maiden of Japan 
shares with the white woman an aversion for these stran- 
gers in Hawaii, though the number of Japanese women 
who marry white men is far greater than that of white 
women marrying into any of the races in the Pacific. 

One of the most prolific causes of divorce in Hawaii 
has been the so-called ^* picture bride.'' Because of the 
exclusion of Asiatic laborers, few Japanese and Chinese 
women have been born in the island. But because of their 
preference for their own women, Japanese sent home for 
wives. To get round the exclusion laws, they stretched 
the home process a bit, selected by photograph the girls 
they wished, had themselves married by proxy (a method 
recognized in Japan as legal), and then simply sent for 
their '* wives." Aside from the subsequent divorces 
which very frequently ensued, there have been cases not 
without their humorous sides. 

One story was told that must be accepted with caution. 

Mr. Goto, who just a short while ago was Goto San, 
wants a wife. He sees a go-between who secures for him 
the pictures of some girls of his own district. He makes 
his selection and the process of marriage is accomplished. 


With something little short of glee, he waits the maid's 

She comes. But alas, not alone ! Mr. Goto waits with 
others at the pier. Everybody is blessed but him. Chagrin 
and impatience battle in his heart. Nearly everybody 
has been supplied with a wife. There are only two women 
left. Neither seems to be the one he married. Goto 
thinks, — thinks rapidly. Who will ever know the differ- 
ence? He claims the prettier; she accepts him, and off 
they dash on their honeymoon, a la Occident, a two-day 
trip round the island of Oahu in a motor-car. And never 
were nuptials more satisfactory. 

In the meantime Fujimoto San comes rushing up pell- 
mell. His garage business has kept him. He finds a 
lone girl, but she does not tally with the reproduction 
he married. *^Not so nice," is the first thought that 
flashes across his brain. *' Little too broad in the nose, 
lips thicker than those on the photograph, Can I mis- 
take 1 ' ' But she is the only one left. He bows at least 
a half-dozen times, bows clean over, half-way to the 
ground, but alas! every time his head bobs up he sees 
the same disheartening face, a face he never ordered, a 
face he cannot accept. He must clear up the mystery. 
He calls the agent. Investigations reveal that Goto was 
there ahead of him ; so Fujimoto sets out on a chase after 
the honeymoon pair. It ends in Honolulu two days later, 
and another divorce case comes up in court. 

The *^ picture bride'' is now a thing of the past, as the 
Japanese Government has agreed to deny her a pass- 
port in accordance with the spirit of our treaty with 
Japan. From the point of view of immigration, this may 
be a solution ; but there is a phase of the problem of the 
mixture of races in Hawaii I have never yet seen dis- 
cussed, — that is, the woman. In the case of the Japanese 
woman, much more than in that of the man, entrance to 
Hawaii or America is freedom such as has never been 
known before. At home she has been taught obedience 


and deference to lier husband. There are many others 
ready to accept that burden if she is unwilling. But in 
Hawaii, where there are so many Japanese seeking wives 
and where she moves among peoples whose standards are 
an inversion of everything she has been taught to regard 
as virtuous and feminine, she finds herself in an alto- 
gether different position. On the streets she sees many 
white women treated with courtesy ; in the courts women 
receive even more sympathy than men, — to her an 
unheard-of thing. And so we fimd that when all the 
divorces in the Hawaiian Islands have been tabulated, 
these little timid creatures of Japan have been embold- 
ened to the extent of deserting their husbands in veritable 
shoals, making up 90% of the entire number of Japanese 
divorces. It is a scramble for readjustment of conjugal 
relations based on something nearer emotional equality. 

But where do the Hawaiians come in ? will be asked in 
all reason. They are virtually no more. Of the entire 
race which at the time of their discovery by Captain Cook 
numbered some 130,000 to 300,000, only a few thousand 
are left. At the time of the annexation of Hawaii by 
America (1898) there were some 31,000 Hawaiians of 
pure blood, or about 28% of the population. Of Orien- 
tals there was about 42% of the population, with 24,400 
Japanese and 21,600 Chinese. Then there were 15,191 
Portuguese, 2,250 Britons, 1,437 Germans, 8,400 Ameri- 
cans, 1,479 Norwegians, French and others combined. 
Already there were 8,400 part-Hawaiian. From the rul- 
ers down there was a free mixture, even the queen had a 
white spouse. Some of the best types of Hawaiian 
women had been married by men of fine caliber, unlike 
almost any other place in the Pacific. The relationships 
were of a permanent nature, for, as the governmental 
report in connection with annexation stated : 

The Hawaiians are not Africans, but Polynesians. They are brown, 
not black. There has never been and there is not any color line in 
Hawaii as against native Hawaiian, and they participate fully and on 


an equality with the white people in affairs, political, social, religious, 
and charitable. The two races freely intermarry one with the other, 
the results being shown in a population of some 7,000 of mixed blood. 
They are a race which will in the future, as they have in the past, 
easily and rapidly assimilate with and adopt American ways and 

In defiance of prejudice, intermarriage between the 
races in the Pacific is taking place. What the result is 
to be, no one as yet knows definitely. The number of 
white men legalizing their relations with native women 
is large. The tropics are veritable whispering-galleries 
sounding the stories of men who have returned to keep 
their promises even after they have been despatched 
from the islands under the influence of the cup so as to 
prevent their marrying. In the mid-Pacific, in the 
South Seas, in the Far East, white men are marrying 
native women, even in cases where these have been their 
mistresses for years. 

In Japan, many leading white men have married 
Japanese women, among whom the most celebrated has 
been Lafcadio Heam. The list is long. In the ports, 
many foreigners have married Japanese women, and 
though there is a strong feeling against it socially, 
discrimination is not universal. The French and the 
British are not nearly so fastidious in these matters as 
are the Americans and the Japanese. Wherever there 
is outward opposition, it comes from the Japanese side 
as well as from the white. Japanese complain against 
discrimination here, but we are received with no more 
open arms by them in Japan. 

The girl from Japan coming to the West is by virtue 
of her immigration alone to some extent emancipated; 
but to the white woman turning her steps east there is 
only the emancipation, in part, from drudgery by means 
of ample servants. To the white woman who goes a 
step farther and links herself in marriage with a Japa- 


nese or Chinese there is in the majority of cases only- 
sorrow, soreness of heart, isolation, and regret. It is 
not that she might not be happy with the individual Orien- 
tal, but in the East she becomes part of a vicious family 
system that strangles her individuality. Though the maid 
of Japan is not over-welcome in the West, as the wife of a 
white man she comes into a higher plane of life. By no 
means is that true in the case of the white woman in 
the East. There are too many cases, still warm with 
regret, to be named in proof of the statement. I have 
come across several cases of American girls who had 
married Japanese and returned with them to Japan. 
They were content enough with their husbands, but their 
position in the Japanese home was intolerable. I remem- 
ber the loneliness of a New York girl who had gone to 
live in Kyoto. The contemptuous way in which some 
notable Japanese looked at their countryman 's white wife 
was only comparable to the treatment she would have 
received here. The children, born in the same labor, are 
not respected as are either '^pure^' Japanese or white. 
The Eurasian is frequently disqualified. The white 
father regrets that his children are not Aryan as did 
Lafcadio Hearn. 

This is no attempt to make out a case for the mixture 
of natives and white in the Pacific. There are not enough 
facts at hand. Unfortunately, for the next few hundred 
years the differences between the peoples living on the 
borders of the Pacific will continue to irritate, and experi- 
ments in blood-mixture will probably be tried externally. 
I have only mobilized such incidents as have come within 
my own personal observation that will take the problem 
out of the cold, statistical plane. It is with human flesh 
and blood, human hearts and affections, human gropings 
and aspirations that we are dealing, — ^not with the con- 
flicts of imaginary hordes and with terrifying invasions. 

To me, the human elements in Honolulu and through- 
out the Pacific remain a memory of one perpetual stirring 


of sounds, colors, and desires. The whole is not confus- 
ing, for it is outside one's consciousness. In a sense it is 
an inverted world consciousness. Instead of nationals 
thinking outward, they have come together and are think- 
ing inward, recognizing themselves as part of some 
whole. Eventually, after all the races in the Pacific have 
been mixed more or less, or have proved mixture impos- 
sible, they will find some way in which they can dwell at 
one another's elbows without nudging. The mixture 
may even assume an appearance of unity. The color 
scheme, like a thorough blending of all the colors of 
the spectrum, may yet become white. 


*'this uttle pig went to mabkbt*' 

THE basket was growing heavier and heavier, and 
his stomach weaker and weaker. How to convert 
his burden into a meal was a problem, written as large 
upon his face as the delight in the bargains he was mak- 
ing shone in the face of the marketer beside him. He 
was a yonng chap just emerging from boyhood. He had 
been employed by this restaurant-keeper because he said 
he needed a meal. It was not to be a real job. He was 
to get his meal all right, but not till he earned it by 
going with the boss to market and carrying his basket 
for him. 

The basket was soon full to overflowing, and the 
young man bearing it was nigh exhaustion. They were 
now going home. At the comer of the open square that 
had been assigned to garden-truck venders the old 
man stopped to buy a rose. He disputed the price 
with the flower-girl, got it at a reduction, and went on. 
**I always bring my wife a rose from market,'' he 
remarked in semi-soliloquy, and they disappeared, the 
young fellow with his burden, the old man with his rose. 

Thus does the European little pig go to market, and 
he 's the most civilized little pig in the world. For hun- 
dreds of years he has been learning to market, and that 
most essential of social functions is the progenitor of 
communal life. The way in which it is performed is a 
test of the civilization of a people. 

The first democrats and artists of Europe, the Greeks, 



knew this, and made the agora a market-place, a focus 
of public art, and the scene of their political gatherings. 
Wretched, indeed, was the little pig that stayed home 
when the agora was convoked, for he it was whom the 
Greeks had determined to ostracize. Despite their 
efforts as democrats, there were only too many who 
had to stay home when the affairs of that world were 
being decided ; but as a market, with all the architectural 
genius concentrated on making it attractive and beauti- 
ful, and Socrates leading his classes through it, it was a 
certain success. 

In the ruder parts of Europe, owing to the absence 
of means of communication and the dangers of carrying 
one's possessions abroad, definite market-places became 
an imperative necessity, and charters for their existence 
were granted by decree. They became an important 
means of securing revenue. 

Even the Church recognized the value of festivals as 
means of enriching itself in a combination of barter with 
merrymaking and adoration. Festivals and fairs alike 
enhanced the material and the artistic life of medieval 
Europe, and marked, as it were, the embryonic element 
out of which grew all the later laws and ethics of trade. 
The legitimacy of piracy at sea and robbery on land 
had to be counteracted in some way, and the dignity and 
decency of exchange established. 

The evolutionary process by which civilization has 
achieved some sort of business morality may yet be traced 
in various countries, especially among the primitive peo- 
ples of the South Seas, the more advanced Filipinos, the 
recently awakened Japanese, the Mexicans, and the ac- 
complished New Zealanders. Beneath the surface of the 
market-place, the wide world over, one finds the source 
of civilization, and at its level, the level of human com- 
monalty. For as men hunt to cover up their love of wild 
life and nature, so women market as an excuse for min- 
gling with people. There is in the behavior of the mar- 


keter all the cunning of the animal in search of prey, and 
the degree to which these instincts are developed gives in 
a sense the measure of a man's civilization. 

Even outside the bonds of law and order the mere 
process of exchange tends to establish social ethics. This 
is nowhere better exemplified than at the thieves ' market 
in Mexico or in the hidden reaches of the Orient. Thither 
all robbers bring their stolen wares for sale. Thither 
all the robbed hasten, to recover their lost property. 
The instinct within each and all of them is the gambling 
spirit. The despoiler is eager to sell as quickly and as 
successfully as possible lest the rightful owner arrive 
and claim the booty. The general public is anxious to 
buy, for the prices naturally are low, and many a bar- 
gain may be secured. The despoiled, chagrined though 
they may be at their loss, are in part compensated by the 
hope of a purchase made at somebody else's expense. 

I had not known that buying and selling was ever part 
of the scheme of things among people whose needs were 
as few as those of the South-Sea islanders. Saints and 
philosophers are always teaching us that the most desir- 
able state is that in which wants are few, and their 
indulgence is still more limited. But it seems to me that 
where that condition holds, the few necessaries of life 
become so much more desirable and so much more diffi- 
cult to obtain that, instead of a release from slavery, 
slavery is even more rigorous. Our pictured impres- 
sions of the tropics are full of breadfruit-trees and fruits 
growing in abundance without labor. But quite the con- 
trary is the case. The fear of famine and the insecurity 
of life have dampened the joys of many a wild man, and 
the pressure of population has only too frequently 
resulted in infanticide and cannibalism. 

When, therefore, I heard that there was to be a native 


bazaar across the Rewa River, in Vita Levu, the largest 
island of the Fiji group, I defied the yellow sun that hung 
overhead, secured a complement of guides in two Fijian 
boys who were more afraid of me than they were of 
their chief, and set out for real primitive excitement. 
We were pulled across the river on a punt secured to 
each shore by a cable, and made our way up the banks 
in the direction of the sugar-mill. 

It was noon when we arrived at the fair-grounds. 
Aside from long wooden tables that stood beneath arbors 
of palms, there was nothing completed by way of prepa- 
ration. A few straggling natives wended their ways 
from hut to hut of slab-board and thatch, their quiet 
manners reminding me of the monks in monasteries, 
absorbed in their duties. Gradually, venders arrived; 
the tables began to sprout with banana-leaves and 
flowers. Strings of berry beads were displayed, like 
fish out of water, — appealing eyes of the plant world 
asking why, with nature so near at hand, they needed 
to be torn from life. Bottles of liquid fats, like capsules 
of the castor-plant, stood ensconced in green-leaved pack- 
ages containing sweet messes that left the eager natives, 
old and young, literally web-handed. 

The goods displayed, the crowds from the surrounding 
huts arrived, drawn by an irresistible charm. A Fijian 
never came with his mate ; maiden never approached on 
her lover's arm. Though they all appeared indiscrimi- 
nately, there was no obvious grouping of friends with 
friends. They moved like shoals of fish that had got the 
scent or the sight of food. It was a crowd with every 
evidence of cohesiveness except that of companionship. 

To me there was something pathetic in that crowd. 
An outsider by all the laws of centuries of contrary 
development, I had no means of entering their emotional 
lives, of guessing the promptings which made them leave 
privacy for herding. I had only the most outward signs 


to go by, and I thought what spiritless, barren lives they 
must lead who could be brought together on such an 
occasion in so casual a mood. For aside from the bot- 
tles of oil, the strings of beads, and the wrappings of 
stuff in banana-leaves, there was nothing from my view 
to make a hundred or two hundred thousand pounds of 
sluggish flesh rise from its mats and dare the piercing 

Yet the women, who did most of the selling, with their 
unkempt hair and their crude alien costumes, awoke to 
something universal under the game of barter they were 
here called upon to play crudely. Eummage-sales and 
carnivals, dog-shows and dances, likewise change the 
glitter of blue eyes and pink cheeks ; and I smiled at the 
thought of Lao-tsze and Tolstoy, who between 650 b.c. 
and A.D. 1910 preached the ugliness of trade. 

When the play of barter and exchange had stirred 
these primitive folk to a little more life, they quite natu- 
rally sought a way of giving it off again; but so foreign 
did a real bazaar seem to them that they entered the 
recreations with little zest. In these days of savage 
sedateness, with trade becoming more and more a fea- 
ture and a pastime of life, it is not surprising that the 
natives attend with spirits in abeyance. Following the 
great exchange of beads and oils and edible messes, the 
crowds moved out to a more open space, under the clear 
sun. There, with the aid of a native band, under the 
conductorship of a Catholic priest, they made merry, 
with strange sounds and more familiar dances. But it 
all seemed perfunctory and not without a touch of sad- 
ness. The Fijian voice at its best is rich, deep, and 
stately. One cannot imagine it attuned to singing jazz 
or rag-time. It seems exclusively made for hymns. In 
consequence, the crowds could not rise to the occasion, 
and stood behind the entertainers like so many solemn 
Japanese in the presence of royalty. 


But lest the little pig who stays at home may really 
starve to death, the world sometimes indulges him a 
little by letting the market go to him, and never have I 
seen a market more picturesque and more self-possessed 
than one of this sort that visited our steamer as she 
lay anchored in the harbor of Manila. 

All about us during the night had crept Filipino 
lighters, their gunwales capped with low-arched mats. 
They hugged the steamer like a brood of younglings wait- 
ing for their food. They were to receive the cargo of 
boxes and canned goods from New York and other mar- 
kets of the world. 

It was still cool. A native Filipino woman squatted 
on the ridge of a lighter top between two men. She 
was enjoying her morning cigarette. As she caught 
my gaze her face beamed flirtatiously. Then and there 
I tried my tongue for the first time in the real use of 
Spanish, and failed. As the morning advanced, children 
crept from the darkness of the covered lighters ; charcoal 
pails were fanned into a glow like that of the dawn ; and 
roosters, tied to the boats by one leg with a string, 
crowed their contempt, protest, or indifference to a glut- 
tonous and unjust world. 

As the hour of breakfast's needs arrived, a thin, long 
canoe came up, insinuating its way among the many more 
capacious crafts, quietly, slowly, like a thing just stirring 
with the new day. On its narrow bottom flopped dozens 
of little fish in agony, dying of too much air. They looked 
like so many bars of silver when they lay dead. A basket 
of bananas and a few simple vegetables comprised the 
rest of the stock of these aquatic tradespeople, this man 
and his woman. She squatted comfortably, looking 
from side to side for customers, while he pushed the 
canoe along with easy strokes. They did not cry their 
wares, and handed their stores out as though known to 


all for fair dealing and fearless of competition. Thus 
with the freshness of morning air they stimulated this 
little world to action, 

By noon that day I was slipping through narrow 
streets, avoiding the moldy shops of the main street, 
seeking out the men and women who make life interest- 
ing. The coolness of the morning was gone, crowded 
out by steaming noon. The casual, gift-like manners of 
those two aquatic traders was now a thing not even to 
expect, for I was in the midst of civilized trade. 
Unexpectedly, I came upon the public market. 

What a different world ! The hand of the law was in 
evidence. Here, despite the general confused appear- 
ance, the concrete drains and stone tables gave an assur- 
ance of at least periodical cleansing. Here the laws of 
barter held men tied to fair dealing, as the roosters were 
tied to those lighters. Venders make a mad dash for 
freedom through cheating, but were jerked back to hon- 
esty by the bargain-hunter who watches the scales and 
knows the laws. Values are measured by the size of the 
pupil or the intensity of the gaze ; if eagerness is mani- 
fest, up goes the price. 

A Buddhist, looking upon a market like this, if he 
were unaccustomed to pagan ways, would shrink from 
the sight as we would at a cannibal feast. Here the 
world was calmly cruel. All the things we eat lay in 
their naked ghastliness, — the thin streams of blood, the 
bulging eyes of little creatures, the stiff inflexibility of 
limbs once quick and supple. And the men and women 
were unconsciously affected by the scene. 

For nothing stimulates the snarling quarrelsomeness 
of human beings more than the sight of food or the fear 
of imposition. The appeals of the sellers were mingled 
with the bargainings and bickerings of the buyers, a 
competition among both to best one another. Two women 
stood over a fish-bin engaged in a matching of wits that 


might well have been envied by filibustering senators. 
The debate was over a tray of tiny fish. 

A white woman, firmly knit in body and in character, 
made her way through the many aisles, purchasing with 
a precision as clearly civilized as it was silent. A Span- 
ish woman, dark and dashing, swung through the same 
aisles like a little whirlwind. There was brilliance in 
her eyes, and brilliancy in the gems on her fingers and 
in her ears. She was exceedingly well dressed, buxom, 
and attractive, but every purchase was made with a gust 
of austerity and command quite uncalled for. She bullied 
the fisherwoman, she bullied her hackman, she bullied 
the servant who had come to carry her purchases for 
her ; and then she sat down at one of the little restaurant 
tables and ate the strange concoctions with a dexterity 
obviously native to her. She was a half-caste, but the 
Spanish vein was strong in her blood, and Spanish pas- 
sion actuated her. She got into her ancient-looking 
hackney-coach with flash and gusto; but not, however, 
before she had gained her point in the matter of an extra 
piece of fat upon which she was insisting. She was the 
little pig who had roast beef because she knew how to 
market economically. 

But the little pig that has none, and the one who cries, 
wee! wee! wee! all the way home, in the Far East, is 
like the Greek about to be ostracized by the community 
in the agora. Indeed, he has been ostracized in Japan 
for hundreds of years, and even modernization and 
imperial edict have changed his status but little. He is 
known as the eta. To him has been allotted the task of 
attending to dead animals, whether edible or not, and 
though his touch profanes the lowest classes of Japan, 
his labor keeps the country clean after a fashion. Much 
more. Not only do these outcasts remove dead car- 
casses from a careless Oriental world, but in one place 


One is content with its peaceful aspects 





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© Harper Brother 

Before Japan woke up 


at least they liave been given the sweetest of all profes- 
sions, — that of selling flowers with which to decorate the 
tokonoma, the most honorable place in the Japanese 
home. And all through the day, if one is not too 
much engrossed in the marts of the foreign settlement, 
one will hear the voice of these flower-girls calling plain- 
tively, ^^Hanal hana-i! hcmchiroT' Flowers are the 
things that stand between her and the degradation of 
her class, because for years the shrine of a loyal servant 
of the neglected emperor who was struggling against a 
greater and more powerful group of disloyal Japanese 
had been kept fresh with flowers by these eta, or out- 
casts, who did not know whose grave they cherished. 

Otherwise the market in Japan is in the hands of 
Japanese now in good social standing, men who before 
the opening of the country numbered among those not 
much above the outcasts. To be in trade was worse in 
Japan than in England, and when one watches the 
behavior of men at markets, one is not surprised. One 
who takes the average trader at his word in Japan — 
not the big concerns, to be sure — deserves to cry, wee! 
wee! wee! all the way home. 

While all over the world woman goes to market, in 
Japan the market goes to her. She has had to have 
most of her daily supplies brought to her door by the 
cobbler, the bean-curd-maker, or the fisherman. In con- 
sequence, except when she has servants, she has been 
deprived of the educational advantages of market gos- 
sip, and has been kept in her sphere more easily. She 
will be the last to come forward to freedom. 

Not so the men. All the social advantages of barter 
and exchange are theirs. They communicate their experi- 
ences to one another at four o'clock in the morning over 
the fish-tub. They test their wits and their eyes with 
the auctioneer who starts them running in competition 
with one another over an attractive specimen from the 
sea. Or the more imaginative resist confusion in the 


(pit of the stock-market, where they keep in touch with 
their entire country and with the world. They are 
becoming, in consequence, more efficient and more prac- 
tised in world-wide ethics of business. 

Yet within the last few years public markets have 
sprung into vogue in Japan, and I look toward a revolu- 
tion in the relations of the sexes, for no woman who goes 
to market remains long an obedient and submissive little 
soul. This is obvious to any one who wanders into the 
market of Shanghai. There one can see the status of 
the various women who replenish their household sup- 
plies and the most humble, it seemed to me, was the 
woman of Japan. She moved about like Priscilla sud- 
denly brought back to life and sent to compete with the 
modem American woman. 

In ancient Greece, of course, no woman of refinement 
went marketing herself. She sent her slaves. But in 
modern New Zealand not only are there no slaves, but 
there is no one to do any personal service of that nature. 
In the old days, in Europe, the market was the general 
rendezvous where life played its pranks at all levels. 
The religious festivals also afforded dramatic pageantry, 
and sometimes the two interplayed with each other. But 
in our modern times, when the public market is largely 
supplanted by the great department store, shielded, pro- 
tected, organized into a minimum of human interest and 
a maximum of efficiency, the charm of the market is 
no more. So, too, our festivals have surrendered much 
of their artistry. This was somewhat revived during 
the war. New Zealand, because of the still evident 
atmosphere of pioneer life, the lack of interlocking sys- 
tems of communication, and its distance from the most 
advanced places in the world, still affords some of that 
simple charm of a life one reads about. The streets of 
the main cities nightly resemble something one has dimly 


heard of and never hoped to see. The people have laid 
aside all thought of business or barter. There is in their 
attitude something of that suppressed amazement that 
revealed the thoughts of the South-Sea islanders when 
asked to thrill to an alien band conducted by the Catholic 
priest. Both the whites and the primitives seemed to re- 
call that once they knew how to celebrate. 

Queens Street of Auckland was decorated one day, and 
booths were erected on which simple products were 
offered for sale. A parade of two fire-department 
machines, a number of men in Chinese costumes, others 
painted and foolscapped, boys with enormous masks, and 
girls in dominoes, marched through the city, and in their 
wake was a rush of just plain pedestrians. Other than 
that nothing happened. From five to ten thousand 
people jammed the street. The crowd was essentially like 
every other crowd in the world, — the same in gregarious- 
ness, the same in hunting after pleasure that abideth but 
a moment. 

One evening the events were more thrilling. Sulky 
races, men driven by girls, and May-pole dances round 
the street lamps that stand between the tram-lines gave 
a suggestion of antiquity to the city. The only differ- 
ence between these performances and those in the upper 
regions of the tropics was in the absence of palms and 
green arbors. In place of wide spaces were narrow 
streets, lined with brick buildings and studded with iron 
poles whose only blossoms were glowing electric lights, 
and whose only branches were pairs of stiff arms hold- 
ing the trolley wires. 

So, too, the market side of this carnival was a sharp 
contrast to the fairs and markets in more modernized 
communities. Britons are essentially traders, but they 
trade by rule. Even when they play trading, as at this 
carnival, they are more constrained. What little was 
done to allay the sober spirit was revived by the element 
of barter. The gambling spirit, checked in normal times, 


was stimulated. Raffles, wheels, and rings were employed 
to extract coins from the under-zealous. The only aban- 
don was in the confetti, which was scattered generously 
about in the throngs. 

In the booths conservation was the key-note. Every- 
thing, from motor-cars to potatoes, was auctioned and 
raffled. A man from Coney Island, accustomed to that 
hysterical release of emotion, would have felt that he 
was attending not a carnival, but an open market in 
which only the basic necessities of life were in demand. 

Not so in Napier, New Zealand, or in Sydney, Austra- 
lia. There they seem as different from their British 
ancestry as Hottentots are from Polynesians. There 
men and women know how to make merry in ways almost 
unforgettable, and to ripple the smooth surface of sedate 
civilization with lovely flirtations that would weaken the 
most stoic of mortals and paragons of propriety. 

Otherwise, in all New Zealand, life goes along in its 
leisurely, businesslike way. Men attend horse-sales with 
great zest; salesmen rush across the country in their 
little motor-cars, bringing the wares of the world ^s elabo- 
rate markets to the doors of stations or ranches; auc- 
tioneers dash hither and thither to confuse, if they can, 
farmers into the exchange of sheep or cattle. 

While tramping along the road to Wellington, I was 
overtaken by a touring-car. 

^*Want a ride?*' asked the driver. And when I 
mounted, he asked: ^^ Seeing our little country, are you? 
Nothing like it in the world. Ever been to a sheep auc- 
tion? Want to come along?*' And the next thing I 
knew we were rushing over the dirt road toward Onga 
Onga. We drew up at the accommodation house with a 
sudden jolt. 

The guest-room was filled with farmers. Sallow, 
hollow-cheeked, with voices that seemed to plow through 
their brains for thoughts, their conversation was labored. 
Dinner was devoured in semi-silence. 


But when they got to the stockyards, they became more 
alert. The auctioneer mounted the fence like an orator. 
He began cackling like a bewitched hen. The farmers 
moved about, feeling sheep offered for sale, the more 
expert glancing at them with pride in judgment. One 
sleek farmer, whose elaborate motor-car stood by the 
roadside, scrutinized the yards as one who might buy 
the entire lot as a whim. 

The psychology of the auction-sale crowd is distinct 
from that of the bargain-hunter. The latter believes 
himself to be the winner because of the confessed mis- 
judgment of the trader. But the auction-buyer moves 
about quietly, makes his own judgments of values, 
exchanges opinions only with his associates, and waits 
his chances. At a bargain-counter every one rushes for 
the thing he wants ; here the very thing most wanted is 
ignored, as though to lead other hunters off the scent. 
As soon as the sale was over, men fell apart, like boiling 
rice in a pot when suddenly douched with cold water. 

So far has civilized man made certain the processes 
by which he secures the satisfaction of his wants that 
one begins to wonder why men like to buy and sell at 
all. They are like the artisans and the mechanists who 
have become specialized and divorced from contact with 
the living, finished product. So much so is this true that 
much of New Zealand's real marketing is done in Lon- 
don. Once the manager of a station wired his London 
principals ; 


The principals, according to New Zealand's version, 

replied : 


Wander where one may this wide world over, one 
finds that the places to which tourists are drawn mostly 
are the markets. There one finds the richest reward for 


curiosity. The traveler in foreign lands, especially if 
he is alone and somewhat homesick, knows no pleasanter 
thrill than the sight upon the pier, amid cargoes from 
every known quarter of the globe, of a box of canned 
goods stamped in black-stenciled letters with the seven 
signs of bliss, **new york/' 

When lost in that good old town, it had never occurred 
to him that ships trail the seven seas carrying canned 
soups and fruits and vegetables to black-faced, sprawl- 
ing-toed savages. But out there in the wide spaces of 
the globe he realizes how strikingly alike are the alimen- 
tary failings of mankind. Lost in reminiscences, when on 
Broadway again, he thinks himself forever cut off from 
romance, until he happens to turn into a side street, a 
public market, or even a small chain-store grocery. There 
he finds that in a way romance is not dead. The sedate 
housewife permits herself on occasion to flirt with the 
butcher or the baker; incidents the on-looker has not 
thought possible prevail here as well as in the markets 
of the Orient. And packages with the imprint of Japan, 
of China, coffee from South America, awaken in him 
memories irresistible. He goes away wishing he were 
again off there where New York seems like romance to 
him. The day will never come when silks and spices and 
marts will not conjure up in the minds of the most prosaic 
the very essence of romance. 







NEW ZEALAND and Australia are to-day the only 
spots in the world wherein the white race may ex- 
pand without encroaching upon already existing and 
developed races. The extent to which they are taking 
advantage of their opportunities, the extent to which 
they are enlarging the scope and the quality of progres- 
sive civilization is the measure of their right to the main- 
tenance of their exclusive ** White- Australasia^' policy. 

I confess at the outset that I am at a loss for an ade- 
quate argument against this policy. Narrow, selfish, 
dog-in-the-manger-like as it may be, we are faced with 
the other question: From time out of mind China and 
India have had two of the largest slices of the world's 
surface. What have they done with them? How can 
India and Asia, having littered up their domains with 
human beings, ask that more of the world be turned over 
to them for a repetition of the same ghastly reproduc- 
tion? They have made it impossible, with their degrada- 
tion of womanhood and their exaltation of caste and 
ancestry, for new life to start with anything like a de- 
cent chance. Is there not every reason to believe that 
permitted to take up quarters in the open spaces of the 
white man 's world, they will do the same ? 

True that the white man, in both of these cases, has 
wrested his lands from existing native tribes. But it 
was also true that, in New Zealand at least, and 
through Polynesia, the natives were immigrants who in 
their turn imposed on yet more primitive natives, as 
did the Japanese. Furthermore, no race on earth has 



been given a better opportunity to make good than has the 
Maori in New Zealand. The Australoid seems on the 
whole not equipped for the effort. There have been 
cases of Australian blacks making good. There is the 
case of the savage who after receiving an education be- 
came a Shakespearean scholar. But the exception 
only proves the rule. Furthermore, though there is 
bitter opposition to any white man marrying a native 
black woman in Australia — an opposition that is calling 
for legal action from some quarters so that such mar- 
riage will be in future impossible — stiU, the White- 
Australia policy is not aimed against the blacks. These 
will either take hold of themselves and make good, in 
time, or will die out. Be that as it may, there is no an- 
swer to the Asiatic demand for admission based on the 
argument about the white man's plunder. 

The only other argument is that, if this is the case, 
the white man must get out of Asia. There too, it seems 
to me, is a weak spot. The white man in Asia — as man 
to man — does not lower the standard of the civilization 
of the native ; nor is he ever likely to migrate in numbers 
large enough to create a problem. Only politically, 
where a leeching-process exists, where native industries 
are destroyed by cheap foreign products (like that of 
cotton goods, which were forced upon the Indians by the 
British, to the utter ruination of the Indian textiles) has 
the havoc been serious. That is a real argument, and it 
is up to the Asiatics so to adjust their own affairs and to 
come together as to **ousf the white man, — a problem 
for the natives to solve for themselves. 

There is still another consideration. What of Japan f 
Japan has national unity, she is advancing. Is she, 
then, to be made an exception in the White-Australia 
policy? The answer is, Japan must do as she would be 
done by, an answer which will be enlarged upon in the 
chapter dealing with Japan. 

Having thus focused on the negative phases of this 


discussion, let us see what is written on the inner side 
of the Australasian shield. Before we can at all under- 
stand the motives that move Australasia in the direction 
she is going, and foresee the future, we shall have to know 
by what channels she came to be what she is, what ideals 
are parents to her being, and what ideals are her off- 

Strange as it may seem, Britain's interest in her south 
Pacific possessions have always been more or less mild. 
When the question of annexing New Zealand came up 
in 1839, the Duke of Wellington said in Parliament 
that Great Britain already had too many colonies. It 
is common knowledge that she gave them as much rope 
as they would take, that when she had the opportunity 
of acquiring the Samoan group in 1889 she let it slip, 
and that she took the Fiji Islands only after their chief, 
Thakambau, offered them in liquidation of unjust debts 
to America. In other words, it was New Zealand and 
Australia that held on to the mother country, instead of 
the reverse. And in order to understand the spirit of 
the Dominion and the Commonwealth, we must consider 
the reasons for their clinging to '^home.'^ 

Australia was first settled by men convicted of of- 
fences against Britain's then crude sense of justice; but 
New Zealand was devised as a colonial scheme under 
which every feature of British life was to be transplanted. 
When Europeans came to America, political and relig- 
ious freedom was sought. When Great Britain went to 
New Zealand, eighty-five years ago, society was politi- 
cally and religiously free, but industrial organization 
was awaiting an ambitious hand. In New Zealand it was 
not, as Havelock Ellis puts it so vividly, *Hhe roving 
of a race with piratical and poetic instincts invading old 
England where few stocks arrived save by stringent selec- 
tion of the sea. ' ' They did not come because of romantic 
longing, nor to escape oppression and restriction. The 
story of the development of New Zealand, from settle- 


ment and conquest of the Maories to the beginning of 
that legislation which has made it famous, is the story of 
conservatism. When the first shipload of colonists set 
out from England, their prospectus was a document of 
conservatism. The aim of the projectors was to trans- 
plant every phase and station and class of English life, 
to build in the other end of the world another England. 

Doubtless the fathers of this scheme were seeking to 
overcome the fear of forced transplantation which had 
made of Australia a land of horror in anticipation, and 
hence they spread broadcast accounts of the sort of 
colony New Zealand was to be, which made it alluring. 
But such are the erring tendencies of human nature that 
Australia, intended to be the land of one of the worst 
forms of indentured and penal servitude and the perpet- 
uation of unprogressiveness, set the pace for the entire 
world in untried liberalism in industry, while New 
Zealand, likewise advanced, has developed her latent con- 
servatism in regard to imperialism to a marked degree. 

For apart from the experiments in labor legislation. 
New Zealand has never lost any of the dependence on 
England. She seems to be afraid of her isolation, lest, 
deprived of communication with the world, she should 
be forced into a condition such as that in which the 
white man found the heliolithic Maories. Canada might 
become a nation separate from Britain; so might Aus- 
tralia. But New Zealand has not even that proximity 
to a continent which made England what she is, for she 
is twelve hundred miles from her nearest neighbor. In 
consequence, the New Zealanders have always main- 
tained a strong leaning toward the homeland, whereas 
in Australia early resentment alienated the settlers. 
The New Zealander to-day is the exact replica of the 
Englishman as we knew him; the Australian is a com- 
promise between an Englishman and an American. The 
modern Australian on the east coast of the continent 
is as little an Englishman as possible. I have heard 

Farmer M had the reputation for being the worst boss in the Wakatipu (New Zealand) 

Seen from this side they look more like gorges 


any number of Australians resent being called English. 
The last ^*convicf was brought to Australia in 1840; 
yet the Australians are very conscious of this stigma 
on them. The other day an English engineer told me 
that in Subiaco, one of the suburbs of Perth, it was im- 
possible for one to join the tennis-club whose grandfather 
was born in Australia — ^lest that ignoble ancestor should 
have passed on some of the ^ ^ taint ^' to his unfortunate 
offspring. Yet in the eyes of enlightened legislation, the 
taint involved is of course questionable. 

It is therefore not to be wondered at that Australia 
kept growing farther and farther from England. In 
the early days each settlement maintained its own gov- 
ernment, and so great was the jealousy among the 
settlements that they sought to bar one another even in 
the construction of railroads. Victoria built a broad- 
gage line, New South Wales, a narrower, and Queens- 
land the narrowest, — not mere engineering accident due 
to any notion of superiority of the special line, but clearly 
and openly to make communication of one with another 
difficult. But by 1900 the settlements had outgrown their 
childish squabbling, and they became federated into the 
Commonwealth of Australia. 

Though this brought them together within Australia, 
it awoke New Zealand to the danger of being drawn into 
that union against her will. ^^The Melbourne Age" 
prophesied that in a quarter of a century they would 
be federated. ^^The fate and destiny of Australia and 
New Zealand were the same and they should be united 
in the defense of these distant lands that were held by 
people of the same thought and same political system." 
But there never has been much love lost between them. 
New Zealanders have been anathema in Australia, and 
Australians hadn't a ghost of a chance of getting a job 
in New Zealand. Nor was this a matter of different 
standards of living, except that they both discriminated 
against the Englishman. And not without reason, for the 


type of Englishman who set out for the Antipodes was 
one who generally had nothing to sustain him at home. 
To the Australasians he was virtually a foreigner, and 
foreigners of any sort are few in the far South, and are 
encouraged still less. Yet there is excessive pride in the 
fact that something like 98 per cent, of the inhabitants 
are British. 

In view of the economic departures they have taken 
from European conceptions, this would seem a paradox. 
But even among the workers, the psychological effect of 
**home'' is apparent to the most casual observer. 
Though material security has been assured by the State, 
the result of much of the legislation in the Antipodes 
seems to me to have been something akin to the class 
system in England. The worker has become legally rec- 
ognized as a worker, he has been given a minimum wage 
and protection against imposition, but any effort on the 
part of labor to crystallize its ideals is still obnoxious 
to the masses. There is not even any of the impulse 
found among American workers toward that rise in the 
social scale which is essentially bourgeois. There is a 
most decided tendency to accept the status of worker in 
the good old English fashion. Working-people do not 
regard themselves as ^^ gentlemen'* or as 'ladies,'' these 
terms in New Zealand having the same significance they 
have in the old country. Deference to one who does not 
look like a laborer is pronounced, and the average work- 
man is more ambitious for the ''gentleman*' than he is for 
himself. This spirit obtains much more in New Zealand 
than in Australia. 

Than dignity in labor nothing in the world could be 
more worthy. But if that dignity spells merely content, 
it lays society open to a renewal of the very class divi- 
sions industrial progress has sought to remove. The la- 
borer is too content to remain a laborer actively to enter 
the lists against injustice. And in a short time you have 


those wlio refused to be doped by the talk of virtue in 
labor on the top, and the laborer at the bottom. 

Yet, socially and outwardly, there are not the gaps be- 
tween the classes in New Zealand that are found in Aus- 
tralia. There are no great restaurants and pleasure 
places for the rich. All people visit the dainty little 
tea-rooms, and often workingmen come dressed in 
their working-clothes, with unwashed hands. In Dunedin 
the proprietor of one of the best tea-rooms handed out 
little cards to laborers with ^^Your Patronage is Unde- 
sirable'' on them, but the public howled his practice out 
of existence. This is largely because the level of life in 
New Zealand is more even. The wealthy do not display 
themselves over-much, and the most obvious club life is 
that among the workers. Workingmen 's clubs are 
equipped with very good libraries and reading-rooms, 
but also with tremendous circular bars fully as much 
frequented as the book-shelves. 

The result is that though, from a progressive point of 
view, New Zealand is outwardly tame and sober, from 
a consideration of health, the standard of life is univer- 
sally good. Any great influx of peoples with standards 
of living that would of necessity demoralize this normal- 
ity, would give the country a setback which might take 
generations to overcome. On the other hand, though the 
present state of affairs might continue indefinitely, un- 
less New Zealand gains in numbers, her place among the 
influential members of the Pacific Ocean nations is cer- 
tain to be strained, if not jeopardized. 

Tom between these economic enthusiasms of a small 
country and the restraining influences of a tradition that 
is essentially imperialistic. New Zealand has a pretty 
hard time of it. Naturally enough, she is holding on to her 
beloved mother country with an excessive amount of 
talk, while at the same time nibbling away at the ties that 
bind her. She is in the hardest position of any of the 
Pacific countries. By tradition adoring England and 


scorning Australia, emulating the one and trying to keep 
peace with the other, realizing that proximity makes her 
more than a brother of her continental kin, looking toward 
America for applause and assistance. New Zealand is 
shaping a policy that will probably become a patchwork 
of colors, — and most interesting to look at. 

But Australia is cutting the waters with the force of a 
triple-screw turbine. And toward Australia we shall 
have to look for the leadership of British policy in the 
Pacific. Canada is too close to Europe and America 
ever to become the real leader in the destinies of the Pa- 
cific. The truth of this statement becomes manifest 
when one watches the inner workings of the island con- 
tinent. Though New Zealand is more widely known for 
its great liberalism, there is really more freedom of 
thought in Australia, more freedom from traditional 
thinking, more boldness of expression. That was mani- 
fest during the war when the conscription issue came 
up. The New Zealand Legislature simply enacted a 
conscription measure. In Australia, the Government 
tried twice to force it through by way of a referendum, 
and twice it failed. William Morris Hughes, the Prime 
Minister, had gone to England to attend a conference, 
promising that conscription would never be proposed. 
He was wedded to voluntaryism. When he returned, 
Australians suspected him of having conscription up his 
sleeve. There was an outburst of indignation. Austra- 
lians charged him with having had his head turned by 
fawning lords and ladies at ''home'' and with sidling 
up to a title himself. Australians are not very keen about 
rank; in that matter they are more like Americans. 
Hughes nearly committed political suicide by declaring 
himself in favor of conscription. It is said that he was 
warned by labor not to try to put it through without a 
referendum. What happened then illuminates the Aus- 
tralian character. 

For weeks the country was in as wild a state as pend- 


all Australian Government Photo 


Phc! u Br 

See the group on the rocks at lower right-hand corner 


ing civil war could produce anywhere. The feeling was 
tense. Conflicts and wrangling occurred everywhere. 
Up to the last night of the discussion it seemed as though 
there would be war. Then came the day of the vote. 
The quiet and the orderliness was one of the greatest 
boosts for democracy ever staged. Everything was 
bathed in sunny restfulness. Workingmen lay upon the 
grass of the public domain like seals. When they talked 
it was about anything but conscription. Conscription 
lost. It lost a second time the year after. Two main 
factors stood out against the sending of more men to 
Europe, — labor and Asia. 

Almost immediately after the referendum the coal 
strike occurred. The situation became grave. To con- 
serve fuel for industrial purposes, the Government pro- 
hibited the use of electricity and gas except during speci- 
fied hours. Places of business on the main streets were 
lit with kerosene lamps, movies were closed, the ferry 
stations stood in semi-darkness. People conversed as 
though certain doom were impending. Things looked 
forlorn indeed. Shops and factories were closing down, 
throwing thousands out of work. One heard remarks 
about things heading for a revolution. 

Australia is reputed to have done wonders in the way 
of solving the problems of capital and labor, but there 
are as many strikes in that Commonwealth as in any 
other state. The country is crystallizing quickly and is 
bound to become more and more conservative. Despite 
the worthy democracy to be found there, every public 
utterance seemed to bear itself as though made by a lord. 
One is constantly aware of the presence of the crown, 
even though it has been removed, like the sense of pres- 
sure behind one^s ears after having taken off one's 
spectacles. For notwithstanding its democracy, Aus- 
tralia is bound up in the monarchy. Revolution was 
hinted at every now and then, but at its mention one also 
heard the creaking of the bones of empire. It was evi- 


dent and clear, though hardly spoken. One felt the 
security which comes from the accumulation of tradition 
and custom, but it was not comfortable. Even in Aus- 
tralia change seems to be regarded as sjoionymous with 
destruction. A marvelous structure, this British Em- 
pire, and fit for the residence of any human being, — ^but 
not an American. He is too dynamic, too restless, too 
eager for creation. 

And here is where we arrive at the point of meeting 
and of parting in our relations with Australia. America 
has determined upon keeping the country *^ white'' 
against the invasion of Asia. So has Australia. But 
America has the inclusive tendencies of an empire ; Aus- 
tralia the exclusive. America is heterogeneous; Aus- 
tralia is homogeneous. American strikes are regarded 
as importations, but what about the strikes in Australia? 
America has a population of 110,000,000 in an area but 
a little larger than Australia, while Australia has only a 
paltry 4,500,000. America is trying to amalgamate the 
diverse races it already has without taking in such people 
as the Asiatics, whose racial characters are so unyield- 
ing. But Australia is herself unyielding. Homoge- 
neous as her population is, she has great difficulty in 
keeping it from disagreement. With a vast region not 
likely to be touched by labor in generations, Australia 
uses the same arguments against outsiders coming in as 
does America in regions already well developed. 

Keeping Australia ** white" is the keynote of all Aus- 
tralian politics. For this reason half of the leaders 
waged war against Germany; while to keep Australia 
white, the other half stayed conscription. Labor is at 
the bottom of the '^ white'' Australia policy. The most 
serious problem the country has to face is her insufficient 
population. Yet what labor is to be found there receives 
no more consideration than anywhere else in the world. 
It is no better off than elsewhere. There is less poverty 
simply because poverty is synonymous with over- 


population. To protect itself against invasion of cheap 
(not necessarily Asiatic) labor, Australia passed the Im- 
migration Restriction Act of 1901. To speak of restrict- 
ing immigration into a country containing only four and 
a half million seems suicidal, but Australia went at it 
without any trepidation and declared for the exclusion 
from'* immigration into the Commonwealth . . . any per- 
son who fails to pass the dictation test; that is to say, 
who, when an officer dictates to him not less than fifty 
words in any prescribed language in the presence of the 
officer" fails to pass in the judgment of the immigration 
officer. This is the crux of the Act; other than that, re- 
striction is placed only on those diseased or incapable. 
In other words, this restriction places a person failing in 
the test on a level with the criminal, lunatic, and the leper. 
It is obviously a snare, for it means that an officer may 
spring any language he may choose on an immigrant. 
He may ask a Frenchman to write Greek, or a Greek 
Spanish, failure to comply giving the officer the power to 
exclude the applicant. The law has kept Australia 
white, but with pallor rather than purity. 

Veiled and unveiled, this White-Australia policy was 
at the bottom of the failure of conscription. The spirit 
which dominated both camps was fear of invasion. 
Argued the pro-conscriptionist : **If we do not stand be- 
hind the empire and the Allies in this war, Prussia or 
whoever may become her ally in future will swoop down 
upon us." Argued the anti-conscriptionist : ''If that is 
the danger, then let us keep our men at home to protect 
us against this possible peril." The antis were more 
open. They pictured an invasion following the sending 
of men to Europe, and pointed to the importation of 
coolies for labor in Europe. One member of Parliament 
was fined a thousand dollars and made to enter into 
' ' cognizance and comply with the provisions of the Reg- 
ulation" because he specified whom they were afraid of, 
— Japan. And to add grist to their mill, a hundred na- 


tives of the island of Malta (British subjects, mind you) 
appeared at the beautiful front door of Australia, Sydney- 
Harbor, and asked for admission. They did not land. 
Even Indians are excluded, a deposit of five hundred dol- 
lars being required of any admitted, to guarantee his 
return. A transport has been fitted out in Java with 
native labor, but Australian workers refused to load it 
till the fittings were torn out and done over by Australian 

Now, the White-Australia policy is, if you care to 
stretch a point, a humane attempt to avoid conflict. The 
Australians say to themselves and to the world: **We 
would rather call you names across the sea than scratch 
your eyes or pull your ears over a wooden fence.'' They 
point to the American Civil War and the present problem 
in the South as an example. They wish to save them- 
selves future operations by avoiding the cancer and are 
willing to bear the burden of retarded development for 
this promised peace. Let us see how it worked out. 

It is interesting to note that in 1915, 890 Germans 
were admitted to Australia, and only 423 Japanese; in 
1914, 3,395 Germans and 387 Japanese. The number of 
Germans for the two years previous was virtually the 
same, whereas that of Japanese fluctuated from 698 in 
1912 to 822 in 1913, and 387 in 1914. From 1908 to 1915 
the Germans entered in increasing numbers, while the 
Japanese decreased. Chinese gained admission in vastly 
greater number than the Japanese, exceeding them by 
1,500 and 2,000 yearly. On the whole the preponderance 
of arrivals over the departure was seldom excessive, 
most of the steamers from the south bound for the Orient 
being taken up by returning Asiatics. With the vast 
regions of the island continent uninhabited and un- 
touched, this movement of Orientals is only evidence of 
the check the Government keeps on invasion. The fal- 
lacy in the White-Australia policy is obvious. Its psy- 
chological significance was pointed to above, — a tendency 


on the part of Australians, though politically democrats, 
to revert to habits of thought inherited from England. 
England is an island kingdom, but the Englishman can- 
not forget this even when he has taken up his home on 
a vast continent like Australia. In this day and age of 
steel ships and submarines, with possibilities of the air- 
ship clear before us, for any one to think in an insular 
way is to lack the common sense of a King Canute. Aus- 
tralia has shown that even with an enemy recognized 
and fought she has been unable to remain unified in 
thought, yet she thinks that merely by excluding the 
Asiatic she will be able to maintain her integrity. Capi- 
tal in Australia would be willing to admit the Oriental 
in order to reduce the cost of labor; but as soon as he 
becomes a factor in commerce — as in the case of the 
Chinese furniture-makers who exploit Chinese laborers 
and undersell Australian furniture manufacturers — 
Capital becomes wroth and shouts for the exclusion of 
the coolie. Labor, on the other hand, swaggering about 
the brotherhood of man and the common cause of labor 
throughout the world, becomes just as nationalistic when 
**foreign'' labor threatens to undersell it. True that it 
would be easy enough to establish a minimum wage by 
law, so that no Chinese would be allowed to receive less 
than that wage for his work, but the principle doesn't 
work out so easily. Even with a minimum wage and an 
eight-hour day, the Chinese with his intense application 
to his job and his manner of living would threaten the 
white man. But have we not the same difficulty even 
among a given number of white men, where some are 
ready to undersell others? Australia, the experiment- 
station for labor legislation, is the last country where one 
would expect to find the exclusiveness which she con- 
demns so vigorously. She has shown herself exclusive 
in her discrimination against the English workingman; 
she has even been exclusive in her attitude toward her 
neighbor. New Zealand (an exclusiveness, which is recip- 


rocated, of course) ; and finally and foremost, she is 
exclusive of Asiatic and colored people. 

This exclusiveness has left a continent with harely 
the fringe of it scratched. To people like the Japanese, 
Chinese and Indians, this must indeed seem the height 
of selfishness. True, that sparse as her population is, 
Australia has done more to better the condition of her 
people than has Japan or China; and there is the rub. 
That mere excessive breeding gives a nation a right to 
invade other lands is a principle that no decent-minded 
man could tolerate for a moment. Only people to whom 
woman is merely a breeding-machine would advance 
such an argument. And in the chapter on Japan and the 
Far East I shall elucidate the basic facts in that conten- 
tion for the elimination of a White- Australia policy. 

From the Australian point of view, though admitting 
that hardships are bound to result, admitting that ethi- 
cally discrimination is unprogressive, the country is 
faced by the danger of sheer numbers. Idealistically the 
Australian policy is wrong. Individually, those of us 
who know the Japanese and the Chinese would just as 
soon live next door to them as to any other human beings. 
But as long as numbers are the racial ideal of the East, 
there is no solution that would not undermine quality 
if quality did not defend itself against quantity. I am 
ready to admit that there are many Australians who 
are as inferior to the Chinese as the coolie is to us. But 
the Australasian has one virtue ; he does not breed like 
the Oriental. 

The problem of assimilation and Australianization is 
intricate and sometimes extremely unjust. There is the 
case of the young Chinese boy born and brought up in 
Port Darwin, North Australia. In every way he is an 
Australian citizen. To further his education and west- 
ernization, he came to America to study at Harvard, and 
here fell in love with a Chinese student bom in Boston. 


Now, she is an American citizen. They are to be mar- 
ried. He has every reason for wishing to return to 
Port Darwin with his wife. But, says the Australian 
Immigration Law, you can't come in because you 're a 
Chinese. ^'But I 'm an American Citizen, and the wife 
of an Australian,'' she argues. ^^That doesn't matter. 
We exclude Indians, who are British subjects, from en- 
tering Australia, and we intend to exclude you. Aus- 
tralia is the only country in the world in which the white 
race is still free to expand, and we intend to keep it free 
for them." **What is America going to do about it?" 
I asked my informer. **What can she do? The only 
thing she could do would be to come to a clash of arms 
with us, and we intend to let the Chinese do their own 
fighting if they want to. We won't let Japanese who 
are American-bom citizens enter Australia ; we may seem 
a bit piggish about it, but we intend to hold to our own 
nevertheless." This question was up for the British 
Minister to decide upon, but at the time of writing no 
decision has yet been arrived at. 

That injustice such as the above is bound to result is 
obvious. But for generations to come the onus rests on 
the Orientals, and on those white men who would profit 
by either cheap or untiring laborers whose minds ask 
for nothing, and whose bodies are content with little. 

Though Australia 's contribution to the intellectual wel- 
fare of the world has as yet been slim, the advance in 
political and economic thought has been exceedingly 
worth while. The freedom of the individual to go his 
way in life, to develop the best that is in him, the stand- 
ard of general welfare and the quality of life as a whole 
so far excels the average of Oriental social life that Aus- 
tralasia is justified in trying to prevent the dilution of 
its concentrated comfort. We all know and admit that 
both China and Japan have civilizations, intellectual and 
artistic, the like of which might well be emulated in the 


West. But beneath it all is the dreadful waste of human 
life for which China and Japan must give answer before 
demanding of the West certain physical and material ad- 
vantages which we have. 



WHEN I completed the final section of my book 
** Japan: Real and Imaginary,'' last year, and 
sent it to the publisher, I was not a little worried lest the 
movement of events in the Far East proceed so rapidly 
that the cart upon which I was riding slip from under me 
and leave me to rejoin the earth as best I could. So 
fast did things run that I thought surely there would be 
a revolution in Japan, or at least universal manhood suf- 
frage, and that without doubt Japan would withdraw 
from Shantung. I am afraid I shall have to confess 
that the wish was father to the thought. So far nothing 
has happened in that intricate island empire seriously to 
affect any of the generalizations in that book. Nor have 
any criticisms from my Japanese friends come forward 
so that I might now be able to alter my position in any 

However, enough has happened to make it necessary 
for me to extend and enlarge upon some of the phases 
of the Japanese situation as they now obtain. In my 
former book I handled Japan as an integer, avoiding im- 
plications. Here I shall attempt to show how the Japa- 
nese phase of the problem of the Pacific affects the three 
important elements round the Pacific, — America, Austra- 
lasia, and Asia. Under that head I shall have to begin 
where I left off in ' * Japan : Real and Imaginary, ' ' with 
the question of emperor-worship and its natural off- 
spring, Pan-Asianism and the so-called Monroe Doctrine 
of Asia; with the ingrowing phases of it, democracy in 
Japan, and the Open Door without; with Japan's new 



mandates and what she is doing with them; with the 
fortification of the Bonin Islands and the Pescadores. 

At the very outset, let me crystallize in one short para- 
graph the essence of the whole situation. We have in 
Japan now a heterogeneous nation whose ideals are es- 
sentially those of imperialism, the political grip on the 
people being based on the worship of the emperor. The 
outward consequence of this is that the entire nation is 
fairly united upon the questions that affect the nation as 
a whole, such as Pan-Asianism, the leadership of Asia. 
But if that were all, Japanese rulers would have things 
pretty much their own way. This strange consequence 
results, however, — that having been stimulated to feeling 
that a Japanese is the most superior person on earth, 
the populace, in this pride, is demanding greater recogni- 
tion for themselves as individuals. Hence that which the 
military and naval parties in Japan win in their hold 
upon the people through increased pride of race, they lose 
in the enhanced difficulty which comes from a restive 
population. Added to which are the numerous alien ele- 
ments that aggression has inherited, — a rebellious Korea 
and Formosa, a boycotting China, and a native element 
that sees itself being flaunted by world powers and un- 
able to obtain recognition of racial equality. 

It is Japan's misfortune that she is still unable to 
live down her reputation. With all her might she is 
trying to stand up to the world as a man, and not as a 
pretty boy such as she has been regarded heretofore. 
Hence, it is necessary, that after having paragraphed 
the make-up of Japan, I do the same with the attitude 
of the world toward Japan. Wherever I have gone I 
have been asked a certain type of question that seems to 
me to hold the mirror up to Japan. The questions are gen- 
erally these : What business is it of ours, after all, what 
Japan does in Asia? Isn't it only the conceit of the 
white man that makes him regard himself as superior 
to the Japanese? Isn't it true that the Japanese 


haven't any room for their surplus population? Or, the 
more knowing, those who have read up on the subject — 
like the man who signed a contract with a publisher to 
produce four boys' books at once, one of which was on 
Shintoism in Japan — assume this attitude: ^^Let them 
adore their emperors; it 's a charming little peculiar- 
ity." There is still a third group. It belongs to the 
adolescent class, to the age of boys who threaten to lick 
other boys with their little finger, or *^I '11 fight you with 
my right hand tied behind my back, ' ' and has been fed by 
the romancers who portrayed everything Japanese as 
petite and charming. The Miles Gloria sus, suffering 
from political second childhood, asserts: *' America could 
wipe the floor with Japan with one hand, just as she could 
Ecuador." This statement was made by an Englishman 
with remarkably wide international experience. 

Now, until Japan lives down this reputation she will 
be forced to make as big a showing of her might as is 
safe, and until then we shall doubtless have ample reason 
for shouting for an increased navy and an increased 
army. In other words, as long as we continue to publish 
the impression that Japan need not be regarded seriously, 
so long will Japan have to continue to convey the impres- 
sion that she might become a menace. To deny that 
Japan is a disconcerting problem is to stick one's head 
in the sand. But Japan is no more of a menace to us 
than we are to her. Japan is not simply going to walk 
across the Pacific and slap us in the face. If any such 
catastrophe takes place over there, it will be a conflict. 
**A conflict supposes a violent collision, a meeting of 
force against force ; the unpremeditated meeting of one 
or more persons in a violent or hostile manner" with 
another, according to Crabb. On the other hand, it is 
equally true that those who urge and stimulate war talk 
with Japan are playing into the hands of special interests 
that are too narrow in their thinking and too broad in 
their avarice, and make war inevitable. 


There is only one solution, and that is the presentation 
of facts. But facts alone are sometimes worse than fig- 
ures. They lie like a trooper. Hence we are in the habit 
of saying : It is an honest fact. Facts are the most irre- 
sponsible things in the world, and without the motives and 
the spirit that underlie every circumstantial thing in life, 
they are the source of all conflict and all sorrow. There- 
fore, let us consider the questions that appear to be typi- 
cal enough to clarify the situation, but with the motives 
and spiritual factors included in the answer. 

First of all, then, is it really any of our business what 
Japan does in Asia? I shall have to split this question 
in two. The **our" side of the matter will have to be 
answered in the succeeding chapter on America in this 
Pacific Triangle, Here I shall handle it by inverting it. 
Is it any of Japan's business what interest we take in 
Asia? This may sound like a pugnacious question, but 
it is asked with all due respect to Japan. It raises the 
question of the Open Door in China, of Pan-Asianism, 
of the misnamed Monroe Doctrine of Asia. We have 
come to a new stage in the history of the world. People 
with a developed sense of justice no longer admit that a 
man may declare himself monarch of all he surveys with- 
out consideration of the rights of the inhabitants of the 
** surveyed '^ areas, When, during the war, everything 
was being done to placate Japan, a certain ** understand- 
ing" was reached between Secretary Lansing and Vis- 
count Ishii. While declaring for the Open Door it ac- 
knowledged the precedence of propinquity over distance, 
of time, place, and relationship. That is, it admitted 
that Japan was nearer the continent of Asia geographi- 
cally than was America. A very remarkable observa- 
tion it was. Certainly had that not been put in black 
and white, *' understanding" would never have been pos- 
sible. But what was the result of that ^^understanding"? 
Japan immediately translated it into a ** Monroe 
Doctrine of Asia." Here, then, was a fact, Japan 


most decidedly is nearer Asia than are we. Ergo, Japan 
has the right to set herself up as the god and little 
Father of China, to declare the Mikado Doctrine of 
Asia. But is there any parallel whatsoever? Not only 
no parallel, but an apparent contradiction in the use 
of the Monroe Doctrine from the American angle; for 
that pronouncement involved non-interference in Euro- 
pean or foreign affairs. If we adhere strictly to the 
Monroe Doctrine we have no right to set any limitations 
for Japan. Our concern is only with the Americas. Even 
the amount of understanding involved in the Ishii-Lan- 
sing agreement is in violation of our doctrine of isolation. 
On the other hand, we virtually pledged ourselves to keep 
our own hands off South America. Hence, the Monroe 
Doctrine, if applied to Asia by Japan, would mean the de- 
nouncement of the Twenty-one Demands made on China 
in 1915, the withdrawal of Japanese troops from Shan- 
tung and Siberia, the return of independence to Korea, — 
and then the demand on the part of Japan that all Euro- 
pean powers abstain from further extension of their influ- 
ence on the continent of Asia. If ever a Monroe Doctrine 
of Asia was really declared, it was in the principles of 
Hay in his Open-Door policy. If Japan should set herself 
up as the guardian of Asia in this wise, she would never 
raise the question of whether we have any business in Asia 
or not. It would not be necessary. And Japan would be 
able to enjoy the fruits of propinquity to her heart's 
content. Then Japan would truly be the sponsor for a 
doctrine that could be called the Mikado's Doctrine of 
Asia and its worth would recommend itself to the respect 
and admiration of the world. But this, of course, is a 
dream, and in the words of a worthy Japanese author 
who ** deplored'* in his book 'Hhe gross diplomatic 
blunder which Japan made in 1915 in her dealings with 
China" and the ** atrocities perpetrated in the attempt 
to crush the Korean uprising": ** Manifestly, the dawn 


of the millennium is still far away^ We have to make 
the best of the world as it is." 

Into these criticisms of Japan's foreign policies one 
could read the usual white man's conceit, — asking that 
a yellow man make such sacrifices as no white man has 
ever made. There is nothing further from my mind. 
There is only a groping down into the depths of Jap- 
anese practices to discover, if possible, a real basis for 
the justification of her Pan-Asiatic pretensions. 

To me, Oriental civiKzation is something to conjure 

There is in the Far East more art and beauty than 
there is in America. When Europe was so poor as to 
make the Grand Moguls laugh at the simple presents 
which Englishmen brought them, to remark with scorn 
and truth that nothing in Europe compared with the silks 
and gold and silver of the East, the white man was hum- 
ble. He wandered all over the world in search of riches 
which were unknown to him except by hearsay. His 
dominions never extended over such vast spaces as 
seemed mere checker-boards to Oriental monarchs. But 
the white man had his ships, his latent genius, and these 
he has developed to where his realms now so far out- 
strip the realms of old as thought outstrips creation. 
With these the white man has secured for himself a place 
in the world which the brown and the yellow man now 
greatly envy. But the Asiatics have much to look back 
upon and be proud of. 

How much of this splendor is Japan's? A great deal 1 
But not as much as the splendor of China, nor as much 
as that of India, Japan is to the East what England is 
to Europe. Japan is building up her ships and her ma- 
terial arts to such an extent that she is destined to wield 
and does now partly wield the same influence in Asia that 
England wields in Europe. But is that to be her sole con- 
tribution? Is that to justify her place as leader of 
Asia? Let us see^ 


In Europe to-day there is no crowned head who really 
rules. The monarch, where he does exist, is the memorial 
symbol of the nation 's past. But the basis of rule is the 
people. The extent to which democracy exists in fact is 
not for this chapter to discuss. The slogan of ruler- 
ship is democracy. Even China calls itself a republic. 
Bound the Pacific alone are three great republican or 
democratic countries — ^Australia, New Zealand, America 
— whose people are reaching for greater and greater in- 
dependence in the working out of their own destinies. 

But what have we in Japan? We have a monarchy 
with a ^ ' constitutionaP ' form of government. The mon- 
arch is said to have held his power from the beginning 
of time. He is literally regarded as a descendant of the 
gods who created Japan, — ^which was then the world en- 
tire. The myth of his origin would not be very different 
from any other myth of the origins of rulers, were it 
not for the recent developments in the history of Japan. 
At the time of the restoration of the previous emperor 
to power, it was decided by the rebellious daimyo that 
the long-neglected mikado, he who for hundreds of years 
had had absolutely no say in the government of his 
lands, should be restored to power. That is to say, be- 
cause there was no one daimyo who could himself take 
the leadership and become shogun, they determined to 
rule with the tenno as nominal leader, but themselves 
as the real rulers. Other than in the superstitious rev- 
erence of the ignorant masses for the symbol of the 
tenno — ^whose person they had never seen — that lowly 
illustrious one might just as well have been non-existent 
for all the say he had in his country's affairs. So far, the 
situation might not be different from that in England, 
but England's Parliament is in the control of the Com- 
mons, while Japan's Diet — ^both upper and lower houses 
— ^is at the mercy of the cabinet, which, though ostensibly 
responsible to the emperor, is actually in the control 
of the genro and the military and naval clans. The 


worship of the emperor, on the other hand, is made part 
of the political function, the better to cow the masses 
into reverential obedience to the wishes of the actual 

The basis for this theocratical grip on the people is 
Shintoism. With the Restoration in 1868, Shintoism, 
that ancestor-worshiping cult, was revived as the spirit- 
ual core of the new empire ; Buddhism was sent packing, 
and all the cunning of pseudo-historians was resorted to 
to bolster up this effete and primitive national ideal. 

**Let them worship their old emperor,'' say some, 
largely those with a love of pageantry in their uncon- 
scious. And no one could raise an argument against 
this if that was where it ended. If it merely meant the 
binding together ia a communal nationalism the thought 
and devotion of the people, it would be a desirable per- 
formance. But the natural result of an artificially 
stimulated nationalism based on a myth and a deception 
is that it becomes proselytic in its tendencies. It is not 
satisfied with its native influence, but begias to reach 
out. In other words, it takes upon itself the duty of 
making the entire world one, just as religion and democ- 
racy seek to convert the world. And Shintoism is a 
short step to Pan-Asianism. Pan-Asianism is the logical 
consequence of Shintoism. 

What is Shintoism? In this connection, none is more 
authoritative than Basil Hall Chamberlain, Emeritus 
Professor of Japanese and Philology at the Imperial 
University of Tokyo, and author of numerous scientific 
works on Japan. In **The Invention of a New Religion'' 
he says (page 6) : 

Agnostic Japan is teaching us at this very hour how religions are 
sometimes manufactured for a special end — to observe practical worldly- 

Mikado-worship and Japan-worship — for that is the new Japanese 
religion — is, of course, no spontaneously generated phenomenon. 
Every manufacture presupposes a material out of which it is made, 
every present a past on which it rests. But the twentieth-century 
Japanese religion of loyalty and patriotism is quite new, for in it pre- 



Some of my students leaving Kobe for a cross-country hike 




This ia not England, but Shioya, Japan 



■JI^Bi^^^^ ' ^^ 




/'■ ^-^ 





\ "^^ 


r- ;^^^. 






This is not Manchester, but Osaka, Japan 


existing ideas have been sifted, altered, freshly compounded, turned 
to new uses, and have found a new center of gravity. , . . Shinto, a 
primitive nature cult, which had fallen into discredit, was taken out of 
its cupboard and dusted. 

Thus Shintoism, a cult without any code of morals, 
in which nature was worshiped in primitive fashion, was 
made the basis of the national ideal. There is nothing 
in Shintoism that might with the greatest possible stretch 
of imagination become the ideal of any other nation in 
the world. However much Japan might assume the 
economic leadership of Asia, it would never be because 
she could obtain a following for her Shinotistic ideals. 
** Democracy'' has become a rallying cry even to the 
Japanese, but there is nothing in Shintoism that might 
counteract that appeal. 

''What about BushidoT' Japanese will ask. Eegard- 
ing this, it is also well to read what Professor Chamber- 
lain has to say : 

As to Bushido, so modem a thing is it that neither Kaempf er, Siebold, 
Satow, nor Reia — all men knowing their Japan by heart — ever once 
allude to it in their voluminous writings. The cause of their silence 
is not far to seek : Bushido was unknown until a decade or two ago ! 
The very word appears in r^o dictionary, native or foreign, before the 
year 1900. Chivalrous individuals of course existed in Japan, as in 
all countries at every period; but Bushido as an institution or a code 
of rules, has never existed. The accounts given of it have been fabri- 
cated out of whole cloth, chiefly for foreign consumption. An analysis 
of medieval Japanese history shows that the great feudal houses, so 
far from displaying an excessive idealism in the matter of fealty 
to one emperor, one lord, or one party, had evolved the eminently 
practical plan of letting different members take different sides, so 
that the family as a whole might come out as winner in any event, 
and thus avoid the confiscation of its lands. Cases, no doubt, occurred 
of devotion to losing causes — for example, to Mikados in disgrace; but 
they were less common than in the more romantic West. 

And when it is further taken into consideration that 
Bushido, or the so-called code of the samurai, was the 
ideal of a special class, a class that held itself aloof from 
contact with the heimm, or common people, whom it at 
at all times treated with contempt, and cut down even 
for no other reason than that of trying the edge of a 
new sword, one sees how utterly unacceptable it would 


be to peoples of other races and nations asked to come 
to the support of its standards. And according to one 
Japanese spokesman in America, only by methods that 
**had the appearance of browbeating her to submission 
by brandishing the sword'' was China brought to accept 
the infamous Twenty-one Demands. 

I search my memory and experience earnestly trying 
to find a basis for Japan's leadership in Asia that is 
not materialistic, and I cannot find any. Energy and 
intellectual capacity Japan has. Her present leadership 
in practical affairs is a great credit to her. In time, when 
greater leisure will become the possession of her teeming 
millions, there is doubtless going to appear much more 
that is fine and valuable in the fabric of the race. For 
Japan has fire. Her people are an excitable, flaming 
people who may burst out in a spasmodic revulsion 
against their commercialization. But for the time being, 
her only right to a voice in the destinies of Asia is found 
in her industrial leadership of the East, but that is a 
leadership which is fraught with more menace to Japan 
than to the world. 

Let us review hastily the results of this preeminence. 
From being one of the most admired nations in the world, 
Japan has suddenly become the object of almost univer- 
sal suspicion. To a very great extent, commercial jeal- 
ousy is playing its part in this change. But that is not 
all, by any means. There is as much enmity between 
British and American traders in the Far East as there 
is between Japanese and American, or any other two 
groups of nationals. 

But the animosity toward Japan is deeper than that 
of mere trade. It lies at the bottom of much of the 
seeming equivocation of Japan's best foreign friends. 
I was talking recently to one of the leading members 
of the Japan Society in New York, and said of myself 
that I deplored being regarded as anti-Japanese in some 
quarters, because I was not. ^'But," spoke up this Jap- 


anophile, ^*tlie majority of the members of the Japan 
Society are anti- Japanese, or pro-Chinese, if you will/' 
They are trying their best to defend Japan, it would 
seem, and to cement bad relations with good, but the 
result is that the ground of many sympathizers of Japan 
is constantly shifting, though perhaps unconsciously. It 
is due, I presume, to the disappointment of people in that, 
having regarded Japan as worthy of their sympathy and 
adoration, they are now finding that all is not as well as it 
might be. 

Then there is that peculiar twist to Japanese psychol- 
ogy that somewhat unnerves the Westerner. This is not 
a language difficulty, though it is best illustrated by a 
linguistic example. A Canadian in Kobe told me that he 
felt a strange shifting in his own mentality as a result 
of the study of Japanese, something queer entered his 
thinking processes. This is of course absurd as a concrete 
argument, but it indicates that which I am striving to 
uncover in the Japanese mind and method which works 
upon the Western mind, and puzzles and perplexes the 
white man in his relations with the Japanese. And in 
the wider fields of Japanese life, it makes us tighten our 
muscles when we survey and weigh the expressions of 
the best Japanese minds, expressions by which they hope, 
earnestly no doubt, to better our relations with them. 

Take, for instance, the growth of democracy. As I have 
said, when I left Japan it was with a sense of revolution 
impending. Agitation had got so far out of bonds that it 
seemed nothing but complete collapse of the Government 
could follow. The agitation has gone on, violent expres- 
sions are often used, democracy is hailed and Japanese 
'* propagandists '* abroad assert with a boldness that is 
inexplicable their faith in democracy and their hatred of 
militarism and bureaucracy. But democracy in Japan 
is virtually non-existent. Japan is to-day no nearer lib- 
eralism than Russia was in 1905. One dreads to make 
parallels, when one thinks how it was that Russia got 


rid of her czars, that the dreadful war in Europe alone 
made it possible for a change in the Russian Govern- 
ment. Is it going to take such a war to accomplish this 
in Japan? Some of the most ardent Japanese in Amer- 
ica boldly answer, **Yes.'' 

Again, China! Many Japanophiles will say that our 
love of China is based on our trade with her, and her 
own weakness to resist it, while at the same time pointing 
to our enormous trade with Japan as proof of friend- 
ship. That is false. True, that, compared with Japan, 
China is no *^ menace'' to America. But though China is 
the root of our problem, there is something in the nature 
of the true Oriental that makes him charming, jovial, 
childlike and lovable. Japan is, of course, not truly 
Oriental. Japan is essentially Malay, mixed with some 
Oriental and a little Caucasian. But in the two and a half 
years of my residence in Japan I did not once come 
across a white person who had that same unexplainable 
admiration for the native that is the outstanding charac- 
teristic of white men in China. Be that as it may — and 
that is, after all, a personal matter — that which enters 
into the Sino-Japanese problem is the attitude of the 
Japanese to the Chinese. None was so ready to exalt the 
Japanese as were the foreigners after the Boxer uprising 
in 1900. Then the Japanese were hailed for their helpful- 
ness and their dexterity. But the manner of Japanese in 
China to-day goes against the grain of people. They 
ask themselves constantly: For nearly seven years 
Japan has promised faithfully to withdraw from Shan- 
tung, and her promises are as earnestly being expressed 
to-day. Is it, then, so hard to remove troops? Not so 
hard to move them in, it seems. 

Those of us who listen to Japanese promises are from 
Missouri. Japan in conjunction with the Allies sent 
troops to Siberia to ''protect'' Vladivostok. Each of the 
Allies were supposed to send seven thousand troops. 
Japan sent close to one hundred thousand. She has 


earnestly promised to withdraw them ever since. Why 
are they not withdrawn? 

Then comes the hardest thing of all to reconcile with 
her promises, — Japan's actions in Korea. It is easy to 
sentimentalize over the fate of nations. Korea's inde- 
pendence is a slogan that doesn't mean much, though 
Korea claims four thousand years of civilized existence. 
An independent Korea does n't offer very great promise, 
even if one is constrained to sympathize with her aspira- 
tion for independence. Korea might just as well be an 
integer of the Japanese Empire. She had ample time in 
which to expel foreign intriguers and denounce her own 
grafters, for the sake of independence, years ago. But 
what has that to do with Japanese atrocities in Korea? 
What has that to do with the action of Japanese mer- 
chants who, according to Japan's own envoy to Korea, 
Count Inouye, acted worse than conquerors. Count 
Inouye said: 

All the Japanese are overbearing and rude in their dealings with 
the Koreans. . . . The Japanese are not only overbearing but violent 
in their attitude towards the Koreans. When there is the slightest 
misunderstanding, they do not hesitate to employ their fists. Indeed, 
it is not uncommon for them to pitch Koreans into the river, or to 
cut them down with swords. If merchants commit these acts of vio- 
lence, the conduct of those who are not merchants may well be imag- 
ined. They say: "We have made you an independent nation, we 
have saved you from the Tonghaks, whoever dares to reject our advice 
or oppose our actions is an ungrateful traitor." Even military coolies 
use language like that towards the Koreans.* 

The atrocities in Korea committed by the Japanese 
in the uprising of 1919 would parallel the most exagger- 
ated reports of what happened to Belgium. Yet Amer- 
ica's treaty with the Kingdom of Korea, ignored when 
Japan annexed the empire in 1910, has never been abro- 
gated. Where is Bushido in Japan, that it does not rise 
in indignation at these atrocities! It has done so, but 
so faintly that it might just as well have saved itself the 
effort. Apology after apology, but atrocity following 

*In Nichi, Nichi Shimnun, quoted by Professor Longford in The Story 
of Korea, pp. 137-338. 


each apology with the same inexorable ruthlessness of 
fate. Likewise, the massacres in Nikolajevks, and Chien- 
tao are still unanswered. They require a public apology 
of some sort. 

If I am charged with deliberately selecting things de- 
rogatory to Japan, I can only say that nothing, in my 
mind, that Japan may have done for the good of Korea 
and of the world, none of the virtues which Japan pos- 
sesses can ever counterbalance these crimes. Yet intelli- 
gent Japanese write: 

Fortunately, a change of heart has come to the Mikado's Govern- 
ment . . . there will be established ... a School Council to discuss 
matters relating to education. [No mention is made of the up-rooting 
of the native language.] The step may be slow, but the goal is sure. 
Korea's union with Japan was consummated after the bitter experience 
of two sanguinary wars and the mature deliberation of the best minds 
of the two peoples. 

The italics are mine. Who were these minds! No 
mention is made of the assassination of the Korean 
Queen by Japanese, later ^^ exonerated.'* In other 
words, now that the lion has eaten the lamb he is going 
to tell the lamb the best way in which he can be digested, 
for they are ** discussing matters'' to their mutual ad- 

One is inclined to become bitter in the rehearsal of 
such facts, the feeling being induced by the evasive 
apologies of rhetoricians. But these outstanding facts 
must be faced if any true judgment can be formed of 
Japan's position in the Far East : If it is her aim merely 
to dominate in Asia, then Japan has set out to do it mas- 
terfully. But if the leadership of the yellow race is her 
aim, if Pan-Asianism means the uplifting of all Orien- 
tal races now under the heel of the white race, then 
Japan has chosen the most unfortunate line of action. 
She is running an obstacle race in which the silken gar- 
ments of Bushido are likely to suffer considerable wear 
and tear. Credit Japan deserves for her administra- 
tive ability. Certain it is that no country iq the Orient 


to-day has the same capacity to rule that Japan has. In 
international affairs, Japan has proved herself a match 
for the shrewdest diplomats of the Western world. It 
is not to be marveled at that the yellow races should be 
willing to yield her her position and her prestige. 
Thousands of Chinese who could not afford a Western 
education are now being educated in the universities of 
Japan ; many Indians are doing likewise. In the simple 
matter of road-building, Japan has done what few Ori- 
ental countries seem to have the capacity to do. It is 
natural that the Orient should look to Japan for leader- 
ship in government and industry, in direction and help. 
But is Japan giving it ? 

The experiences of Tagore in Japan are not reassur- 
ing. He turned from Japan as from a gross imitator 
of the West from which he had escaped. He expressed 
keen disappointment at what he saw in modern Japan. 
In the ''New York Times, '* recently, there was an article 
by a Chinese called *'The Uncivilized United States,'^ 
the thesis of the writer being that the Americans lacked 
the gentlemanliness of the English. The Chinese was 
obviously a great admirer of the Japanese and repeated 
over and over again that the Tokugawas were great 
rulers because they advocated the rule by * tenderness of 
heart ' ' ; but he, too, despaired of the modem Japan, of its 
great industries and little heart. 

That, of course, has been the oft-repeated criticism 
of America from older countries, and need not discour- 
age Japan. But Japan is making that greater error of 
believing that a world which has won civil liberty and 
enlightenment after so many centuries of strife, has 
builded for the masses at least a semblance of economic 
freedom and democracy, is going to yield all this 
blithely to an antiquated ideal of Oriental imperialism 
that has not even the virtues of Oriental mysticism to 
recommend it. 



JOHNNY APPLESEED, whose real name was John 
Chapman, ended his career at Fort Wayne, Indiana, 
in 1847. Step by step he made his way over the wilder- 
ness, winning the good-will of the pioneers and the devo- 
tion of the Indians, and planting apple-seeds which time 
nourished into orchards. Johnnie Appleseed has been 
glorified by Vachel Lindsay, — and with him, not a little 
of the richness of life that went into the make-up of 

Unfortunately, Johnny Appleseed died in Indiana, at 
the early age of seventy-two. Had he lived twice as 
long he would most likely have reached the coast. By 
most he was regarded as rather a queer character, but 
there were men who felt the current of greatness in his 
being, and to-day Johnny Appleseed might well be hailed 
as the symbol of America. 

For if the virtue of England lay in that process of 
selection which was the result of *^the roving of a race 
with piratical and poetic instincts invading old England 
where few stocks arrived save by stringent selection of 
the sea,'' how much more is the hardihood of pioneering 
the very bone and marrow of America. For the sifting 
process here did not end merely by the crossing of the 
Atlantic. To those who broke through the fears of the 
Atlantic, lanced the gathering ills of Europe, that East- 
ern ocean was only the symbol of a tradition. The way 
has been kept open by the passage of millions of men and 
women and children who, year after year, for four oen- 


tunes, have been invading young America. But what is 
that coming compared with the arduous reaching out 
across the wilderness of this vast continent itself, a 
reaching that left its mile-stones in the form of log cabins, 
graves, and roaring cities. Following the trade-winds or 
beating up against the billows of the Northern seas was 
a joyous pastime compared with the windless waiting and 
tireless pressing on of the prairie schooner. The con- 
quest of the mountains, of the Mississippi, of the tree- 
less plains, of the desert, and of the rocky barriers in the 
farthest West is a story replete with tragic episodes, 
and it is destined to become the dominating tradition of 

It is a strange story, and because it was essentially so 
lowly in its early impulse, because it was seemingly a 
secondary phenomenon, snobs and cynics dispose of it 
with indifference. The movement westward was under- 
taken by men of small means and little culture. Pathetic 
in its simple requirements, seeking fortunes that always 
lay on the fringe of fortune, moving on with a restless- 
ness that seemed to despise rest and ease, it still left in 
its wake sorrows that approached tragedy but never 
felt it. If *^Main Street'* is a necessary corrective, 
**The Son of the Middle Border*' is the crystallization 
of an unconscious ideal. This westward movement is a 
vivid rehearsal of a belated migration that tells the tale 
of man's first yielding to the mobile impulse in his na- 
ture, an impulse that has made of him the conqueror of 
the globe. These thousands of Johnny Appleseeds were 
not utilitarian seekers after wealth alone; in them was 
the unconscious mother principle yielding to the forces 
that were fathering a new race. 

And that new race has come. Centuries of arduous 
trial and tribulation have molded it. Go where you will, 
except for some slight differences in tonal expression, 
there is one people. Beneath their Americanism are the 
crude complexes resulting from a war between refinement 


and the unkind forces of nature. The pioneers had all 
known what civilization meant, but circumstances 
thwarted their inclinations. They brought with them a 
respect for woman which no other people had known 
so well. Primitive and Oriental people — and many 
European races of to-day — do not have the same exalted 
notion of woman, simply because they have developed 
along with women whose functions of life were deter- 
mined by the savage circumstances. But Americans 
found themselves in the continent with few women, and 
those in danger of savage ruthlessness. Hence they 
became doubly concerned for their welfare, even to the 
point of sentimentalism. 

So, too, with regard to personal liberty. The pioneer 
knew what his freedom meant to him, and fought for it 
as a lion or a tiger fights for his. Too frequently his 
own freedom could be bought only at the expense of 
others around him. The word itself became a magic 
with esoteric properties. Hence we find throughout our 
West a fanatical regard for the term ^^freedom*' that 
sometimes works itself into a frenzy of intolerance. So 
fine are the achievements of our coast states, on so high 
a level is the standard of life, that men cannot see the 
exceptions. When such are pointed out to them there 
arises in their unconscious a fear of those horrible days, 
a something which terrified their childhood and which 
must be downed as the ghost of a crime one imagines him- 
self to have committed. Hence, not to be *'with^* cer- 
tain people in the West in the shouting adulation of their 
state or their city or their orchards is a worse sacrilege 
than counteracting one prayer by another ritual. The 
winning of the West was the aim of all the pioneers. For 
years and years they were faced with the most obvious 
threats to its consummation. Mountains, climate, sav- 
ages, European jealousies, lack of population, — every- 
thing that spelled despair stood before them. But an un- 
comprehended passion drove them on. Perhaps it was 


the recrudescence of intolerance which marked the early- 
settlers in the East. Perhaps it was the lack of oppor- 
tunity resulting fropa overcrowding after the advertise- 
ment of the desirability of life in America. It may have 
been any one of a dozen possibilities that kept men and 
women moving on and on and on, — ^nor always, by any 
means, the yielding to ideals. But on it was and on it 
continued till the Pacific was reached. 

This, superficially, is the accepted story of the devel- 
opment of our West. I have attempted neither criticism 
nor laudation. It is an unavoidable approach to the 
discussion of Americans place in the Pacific^ an approach 
which even the most Western of our Westerners is not 
always prone to take cognizance of. But within it lies 
the kernel of future American life. To some, like the 
founders of the State of Oregon, it was more defined. 
Some as early as 1844 realized that to the nation which 
developed the coast lands belonged the spoils of the 
Pacific and in its hands would lie the destinies of the 
largest ocean on the globe. The opening of the Panama 
Canal has placed the Pacific at the door-step of New 
York, and fulfilled the dream. 

But to the vast majority of people on the coast to-day, 
occupation and development of those enormous areas 
seem to carry with them opportunity, but little respon- 
sibility. They have one concern which is akin to fear, 
and that is of the Japanese. They only vaguely grasp 
the significance of their fate. They do not see that they 
have hauled in a whale along with their catch and that 
unless they are skilful they will drag the whole nation 
into the sea with them. 

But if they have forgotten the vision for the appear- 
ance of the catch, what about the East! The East is as 
indifferent to matters pertaining to the Pacific and the 
West. Its face is turned toward Europe. We think that 
America is a nation, but the utter ignorance of one sec- 
tion with regard to another, the lounging in local ease, 


is appalling. Easterners are like the philosopher who 
when told that his house was on fire, said it was none of 
his business, for hadn^t he a wife to look after such 
things! These are strange phenomena in a democracy. 
People think that they discharge their duty by voting, but 
how many people are in the least concerned with the 
problems that will some day light up the country like a 
prairie fire? Westerners are generally much more ac- 
quainted with Eastern affairs. As unpleasant as is the 
promotion publicity of Los Angeles, it is a much more 
healthful condition than the seeming ignorance of New 
York in matters pertaining to Los Angeles. 

Yet while the East is aflame over affairs in Europe — 
the Irish Republic, for instance — it probably thinks that 
Korea is the name of a Chinese joss over which no civ- 
ilized man should bother to yap about. This indifference 
is not to be found in the man on the street alone. That 
man is often uninformed simply because the dispensers 
of information are uninformed. There is much he would 
want if he knew its value to him. And so while we are 
becoming embroiled in European affairs another and 
henceforward more sinister problem is threatening to 
back-wash over us. 

It was while in such an apathetic state that America 
changed her status from a continental republic to a 
colonial empire. Few Americans have ever taken any 
interest in their insular possessions. Hawaii and the rest 
had fallen to the lot of the Government, and would sooner 
or later be returned; that was the sum and substance 
of their outlook on the whole affair. That the Monroe 
Doctrine ceased to be a real factor with the acquisition of 
these outlying possessions, that we virtually abrogated 
it, did not seem to matter much. At large, the notion 
was that American altruism would never involve the 
country in any difficulty. 

But whatever a man^s motives, once he has stuck his 
tongue against a frozen pipe only a tremendous outpour- 


ing of altruism will ever detach it. America began her 
adventures in the Pacific when she urged young men to 
go West. Now we have the whole continent, we have 
Hawaii, the Philippines, Pago Pago, Samoa, and 
Alaska, — a hefty armful. Are we going to let these 
things go, or are we simply going to drift to where they 
drag us into conflict with others who want them and want 
them badly I We cannot merely blow them full of 
democracy and then wait for any one who wishes to to 
prick the bubbles. For it must be borne in mind that 
the issues are clear. The Pacific cannot remain half- 
citizen and half -subject. Every time we stir up within 
a small island the self-respect of individuals, we destroy 
the balance of power between an expression of the wills 
of people and the wills of autocracies. Is America going 
to set out to make the world safe for democracy in 
Europe and then withdraw just when Europe needs her 
help most? Is she going to continue to make treaties 
with small nations like Korea and then when Korea is 
devoured body and soul simply overlook the little fellow 
as though he had never existed. 

Let me make the case of Korea clearer by a parallel. 
We had a treaty with the Kingdom under which we had 
assured her that in the event of any other power inter- 
fering with her independence we would exert our good of- 
fices toward an amicable solution. Then came the Russo- 
Japanese war. Korea received a pledge from Japan that 
her sovereignty would be protected if she permitted Jap- 
anese troops to pass over her territory. Korea, at the 
risk of being devoured by Russia for violating neutrality, 
acceded to Japan's request. Five years after the Russo- 
Japanese War, Korea was annexed by Japan, and we 
said never a word in her favor. Nor have we ever de- 
nounced our treaty with Korea. 

But here is the parallel. Belgium refused to let Ger- 
many cross her territory. Because of Germany's inva- 
sion of Belgium, Great Britain entered the war. What 


if Great Britain now decided to annex Belgium! What 
if America did so? 

Yet Colonel Roosevelt, who was so vociferous in his 
denouncement of the Wilson Administration for its early- 
neutrality in the face of the rape of Belgium, himself 
condoned the annexation of Korea by saying that inas- 
much as Korea was unable to defend herself it was not 
up to us to rush to her assistance. In other words, our 
treaty was only a scrap of paper which was to be in force 
if the other high contracting party was strong enough to 
have no need for our aid. 

Is America going to drag China into world wars 
with promises of friendship, and then concede Shantungs 
whenever diplomatic shrewdness shows her to be beaten? 
Is she going to promise the Philippines independence, al- 
low her governor-generals to withhold their veto power 
for years so that the natives may the better handle their 
own affairs, and then simply let any who will come and 
undermine or explode the thing entire ? 

This is not meant to imply by any manner of means 
that America is to display force and employ it for the 
sake of democracy. It is not navies nor armies that will 
count, but principles. It is America's duty as a free 
country to encourage freedom and discourage autocracy. 
And in that spirit, and that alone, can she justify her 
place in the sun. On several occasions she has done so, 
though only those in which the Pacific are involved need 
reference here. 

Apropos of the Philippines : Two factors and tWo alone 
are involved. It is not a question of whether America 
shall or shall not hold on to the islands. In that America 
has given her word. The Philippines will become, must 
become, free. There, as elsewhere, it is not our concern 
whether one group or another gains the upper hand. It 
is not our concern that the Filipinos, being Malay- 


Orientals, will evolve a democracy that is not compatible 
with our notions of democracy. Our concern is, and has 
been repeatedly stated to be, only the welfare and happi- 
ness of the Filipinos. McKinley, Taft, Roosevelt, 
Wilson, — all have considerably discoursed upon Filipino 
independence and Filipino welfare. We have recently 
been on the very verge of granting independence, but, un- 
fortunately, oil has been discovered by the Standard Oil 
Company, and the question will doubtless now depend on 
the amount of oil there is. If a great deal, then fare thee 
well Filipino independence! However, the real reason 
for our being in the islands is neither the altruistic con- 
cern for the democratization of the people, nor to pro- 
tect the immediate interests of sugar, tobacco, or oil- 
handling capitalists. The one and only basis for our 
action should be the extent to which Filipino independ- 
ence or our protectorate ministers to the peace of the 
Pacific. If an independent Philippines will allay the sus- 
picions of Japan, then they should be independent. But 
Japan would have to give more than the usual promise 
of her word that she would keep her hands off the Philip- 
pines. The extent to which her word may be relied upon 
can easily be determined. One need only mention Korea, 
Shantung, Siberia, the Marshall Islands. We say to 
Japan: *^As soon as you live up to the promises in your 
treaty and other relations with these Orientals, we shall 
be able to accept your further promises in regard to the 
Philippines. ' ' 

Yet it must not be overlooked that Japan saw our com- 
ing to the Philippines with apprehension. Japan is an 
Oriental nation and cannot understand any one doing 
anything out of pure goodness of heart. Fact is, neither 
can we. Let the most honest man in the world offer 
any other a solid-gold watch and that other would sus- 
pect something was wrong. We declared to the world 
that we had only the best intentions toward the Philip- 
pines — to democratize them. To Japan that was like 


holding up a red flag to a bull. What, you are going to 
create a democratic sore right in my neighborhood? That 
will never do. It might be catching. And Japan is not 
interested in contracting democracy as yet, — that is, offi- 
cial Japan. Even liberal Japanese are doubtful. When 
in Japan, I interviewed the democratic M.P., Yukio 
Ozaki. He turned, without question from me, to the sub- 
ject of the fortification of the Philippines. He pleaded 
that the forts be dismantled. In the event of that plea 
failing, what could Japan do, he asked, other than pro- 
ceed to fortify the Marshall Islands? Yet at that time 
Japan had not even been granted a mandate over these 
islands. The logic of his appeal is irrefutable. But this 
is a sort of vicious circle. Who is to begin, and whom 
shall we trust? 

One thing is certain, — that in that whole problem of 
the control of the islands of the Pacific, whether by 
annexation, protection, or mandate, lies the seed of the 
future peace of the Pacific. And unless in each and every 
case the natives are given the best opportunities of self- 
development, that nation responsible for their arrested 
condition is going to be the nation upon whose conscience 
will rest the sorrows of the world. 

In regard to the Philippines, this must be remem- 
bered, — that we are dealing with human beings, not prob- 
lems and principles. The stuff one generally reads 
about foreign places might be just as descriptive of the 
inhabitants of Mars. Little wonder that those for or 
against independence or protection fail to win their case ! 
We must remember that for twenty years we have been 
building up the hopes of children whom we taught in 
our schools, with our money and our ideals. They are 
now, many of them, active men attending to the work of 
the Filipino world. They are our foster-children and 
would be fools not to want to live their own lives in their 
own way. Our policy in regard to them must be a nega- 
tive one ; from now on it cannot be positive. All we can 


say to them is what we cannot and will not permit them 
to do ; we have no right henceforth to say what they must 
do. We can say that we will not permit them to invite 
any other nation whose governmental ideals are likely 
to threaten ours. The world must continue on its road 
toward the greater and greater liberation of peoples, 
hence we cannot permit them to step back toward any 
form of imperialism. We cannot permit them to invite 
unlimited numbers of Orientals who might swamp them. 
They must maintain the Philippines for the Filipinos, 
with as much generosity thrown in as will not endanger 
that. We must remember that our effort in the Philip- 
pines is the first in which any government has attempted 
to treat its subject natives with any degree of equality, — 
legally, if not socially. If the world is to move on toward 
greater freedom — which is needed. Heaven knows! — ^we 
must not let the Philippines be an example of the failure 
of democratic management of natives. 

In all this some may discover implications that our 
hold on the Philippines should be maintained purely for 
strategic reasons. That may be the purpose of the 
imperialistically minded. There may be some who will 
read into this fear of Japan or a bellicose attitude irri- 
table to her. Neither interpretation would be accurate, 
for behind all this are certain historical factors which 
prove that whatever use statesmen may make of world 
situations, evil designs will be frustrated so long as the 
circumstances which created the primary conditions were 
not evil. Specifically, because the earlier relations 
between Japan and America were brought about through 
essentially good motives, these later developments can 
be kept to a sane path. And severe as may be our pres- 
ent criticisms of Japan, so long as the purposes behind 
them are good, they can have only a desirable result. 


When Commodore Perry went to Japan in 1853, his 
only desire was to open that country to trade. It may 
seem now that for the sake of peace in the Pacific it 
would have been better had he been guided by the spirit 
of conquest. Had Japan been conquered in the early 
days, she would never have come to the fore as a possible 
menace. But she was not. It does not follow, however, 
that that was unfortunate, for the earliest relations 
between Japan and America were amicable and basicly 
altruistic. The relations between us have continued to 
be amicable, but altruism has slowly given way to envy 
and jealousy. But the point that is missed in all this 
reference to these cordial relations of the past is that 
inasmuch as America was a great moral influence upon 
Japan in the early days, she might continue to be that 
to-day. Cock-sure as Japanese statesmen have become, 
and pugnacious as some Americans seem toward Japan, 
a strong moral attitude will still do more to check hos- 
tility than all the shaking of sabers and manoeuvering of 
dreadnaughts. We need the Philippines more as a base 
for democratic experiment than as a fortified zone. We 
need them as one needs a medical laboratory for the man- 
ufacture of serums in the time of plague, — for the manu- 
facture of the serum of political freedom, of the rights 
of people to develop and to learn to be free. And this 
experimental station should stand right there at the door 
of Japan — and of British and French concessionists, if 
you please, in China — and of China itself, for none of 
them has any faith in this educating of natives and mak- 
ing them your equals. Only down below the line, in 
New Zealand and Australia, far from where it can really 
affect Japan, is that experiment being carried on. And 
more than all else, when Japanese imperialism is spread- 
ing its wings, when Japanese bureaucracy is throwing 
out its chest in pride and telling its poor, impoverished 
people, *^See what I am doing for YOU," we need that 
serum station in the Philippines where a solution of de- 


mocracy and freedom may continue to be made, — ^be it 
ever so weak. 

And it needs to be injected into Japan. Some of it is 
already working in that empire. Japan needs more, it 
needs to be reinforced. Democracy in Japan is strug- 
gling for a foothold. Let the germs of democracy persist 
in the Philippines and be rushed to the island empire. 
And let America stand as a great moral force, impress- 
ing upon Japan that the rights of the people shall not 
be suppressed. But that will never be unless the people 
in America who stand for liberalism, for true democracy, 
for all that America has hitherto meant wake up to the 
seriousness of the situation in the Far East and cease to 
turn from it with sentimental notions about Lafcadio 
Heam's Japan. There are two Japans. 

Both of these Japans are watching America closely. 
They are watching the actions of America in the Philip- 
pines, they are following in the footsteps of America in 
China. That need not be taken too literally, for there 
are two meanings to it. One example points in one direc- 
tion, another in another. But one or two by way of 
illustration will do. 

When America returned the Boxer Indemnity Funds 
to China for educational purposes a new precedent was 
established in international affairs. No other nation had 
the moral courage to follow suit. But just at the close 
of the war, Japan, having replenished her exchequer con- 
siderably, unloosened her purse-strings and returned the 
balance of the indemnity funds to China. It was a case 
of thrifty self-denial, a tardy giving back of gold that 
none of the powers were really entitled to. As misguided 
and foolish as the Boxer Uprising was, still had it been 
a little better organized, none of the evils from which 
China is suffering to-day would obtain. China should 
have been as wise in her method as she was in impulse. 
However, it is good to see Japan doing so much. She 
should be encouraged. 


Again, seeing that American missionaries — and others 
— are influencing China in the direction of Occidental cul- 
ture, Japan is following suit. Here it is likewise a tardy 
giving back to China what Japan took from her centuries 
ago, for Japanese Buddhism is only the sifting of the 
Buddhism that made its way from India by way of China 
and Korea. Still, it is worth noting that intellectual and 
moral precedents are often as forceful as more material- 
istic weapons. 

Observing the influence that doctors and hospitals 
wield in China, — the Rockefeller Foundation, for 
instance, — the Japanese are following suit and establish- 
ing hospitals in the interior. Educational and industrial 
work likewise will lead the way for educational and indus- 
trial work by Japanese in China. Witnessing the force 
of friendship in America's relations with China, the 
public in Japan is protesting against the antagonizing of 
this gigantic neighbor to whom the Japanese bureau- 
cratic wolf has been making such grandmotherly pre- 
tentions. And indeed there is much good reason for the 
protest, for the Japanese merchant who expected so 
much juice in that Chinese plum found that because of 
antagonism, because of the rape of Shantung, the plum 
momentarily became a lemon, to use a vulgar expression. 
Japan, after the ^^ peace'' Conference contemptuously 
handed over what didn't belong to it but a duped as- 
sistant in the prosecution of the war against Germany 
learned that there are more ways than one of killing a 
cat. And China proceeded to gnaw at the vitals of the 
Japanese bureaucratic wolf in a most telling fashion. 
China declared a boycott of Japanese goods that was so 
effective that it brought about a financial slump in Japan 
from which she is not yet fully recovered. China was 
of course forced to yield. One cannot live on sentiment, 
and when Japanese goods are the nearest and cheapest 
at hand, what could China do ! 

If only Japan could see the real significance of this 


she would at once withdraw all her nefarious demands 
on China, proceed sincerely and honestly to win the 
friendship of China, and then undermine the very ground 
of every foreign trader because of her propinquity. But 
bureaucrats are blind. They are moles that move under- 
ground. The ground of China is all broken up on that 
account. One of these days the Chinese giant will clum- 
sily step, not in the wake of the mole, but on the mole 
itself. Inadvertently, of course ; giants are such clumsy 
things ! 


These, then, are some of the ways in which Japan has 
and has not followed in the footsteps of America. 

Let us follow the Chinese giant a bit, and see what blun- 
dering paths he has pursued. Unfortunately, he has had 
his mind too much on the American colossus to observe 
the mole. And so he blundered into accepting a repub- 
lican form of government. A vain Malvolio, he thought 
he was being honored with blue and yellow ribbons on 
his enormous legs, but to stretch the metaphor a little 
farther, it turns out that these alien Lilliputians are 
strapping him securely down to earth. The ribbons and 
the Lilliputian bands are the foreign-built and foreign- 
controlled and operated railroads which have been talked 
of with sanctimonious metaphors to make them palatable. 
And now China parades herself before the world as a 
republic. That is some of the influence of America. The 
Republic of China is our own handiwork. Is it anything 
to be proud of? Poor China is a battered republic, with 
hands outstretched, appealing to us for help. As I write 
the newspapers tell of the appeal of Dr. Sun Yat-sen, 
recently elected President of the South China Republic, 
After surveying what he regards as the situation, expos- 
ing the Peking government, declaring that but for its 
intriguing with Japan there would have been unity 
between North and South, and that the Northern mili- 


tarists were profiteering in food during the recent 
famine, and charging them with a string of other crimes, 
he adds: 

Such is the state of affairs in China that unless America, her tradi- 
tional friend and supporter, comes forward to lend a helping hand in 
this critical period, we would be compelled against our will to submit 
to the twenty-one demands of Japan. I make this special appeal, 
therefore, through Your Excellency, to the Government of the United 
States to save China once more, for it is through America's genuine 
friendship, as exemplified by the John Hay doctrine, that China owes 
her existence as a nation. 

Now let us listen to the word from Japan on Ameri- 
can diplomacy in China. The * ' Asahi Shimbun ' ' said : 

Of all the foreign representatives in Peking the American was the 
least known previous to the revolution. A lawyer by profession, he 
was not credited with any diplomatic ability or resource. Yet he will 
reap more credit than any of the others on account of the ability and 
energy which he has displayed. But what have our Government and 
our diplomacy done to counteract the American influence ? Our inter- 
ests in China far exceed those of any other country, and yet our officials 
have allowed themselves to be outplayed by a diplomatically untrained 
lawyer. China, which ought to look to Japan for help and guidance, 
does not do so, but looks to America. The inertia of the Kasumigaseki 
has given Mr. Calhoun an opportunity to restore American prestige in 
the neighbouring country. 

Japan has done nothing to gain the good-will of China, 
and America is constantly veering her ship with its treas- 
ury of Chinese good-will more and more in the direction 
of Japan. We had in Japan a man of unusual gifts and 
sagacity. Mr. Roland S. Morris, American Ambassador 
under the Wilson administration, though avowedly a 
friend of Japan, certainly had a most unenviable position 
to maintain. He seemed peculiarly fitted for his post, 
for during his years in Japan, notwithstanding the innu- 
merable missions that moved like settings on a circular 
stage, and the infinite number of dinners that fall to the 
lot of distinguished foreigners in Japan, he never seems 
to have got political indigestion. And doubtless he is 
to-day a friend of China. 

With an eye to the ** special interests'' of Japan, Dr. 
Paul S. Reinsch was permitted to throw up his hands in 


despair. We were not doing much to save China from 
being Shantung-ed. Because Mr. Crane once undiplo- 
matically expressed himself in ways unwelcome to Japan, 
he was recalled before he got beyond Chicago. Several 
years later, Mr. Crane succeeded in smuggling himself 
through to China as American Minister, and as far as 
may be seen, he did noble work in connection with the 
Famine Relief last winter. Now we have dispatched a 
Japanophile to China. Dr. Jacob Gould Shurman was 
so strongly impressed with the schools of Japan that he 
gave up Cornell University to go to China and help 
Japanize the Celestial. At least, that is the mood in 
which he left America. A man who knows him well and 
is close to the inner circle of American financial affairs 
in China assured me the other day that Shurman would 
not be in China six months before he would completely 
reverse his sentiments, and regard Japan ^s work in 
China as it is regarded by every one there who is not a 
Japanese official. 

Poor deluded, short-sighted Japan! She could have 
China as a plaything if she only went about it properly. 
Propinquity could put special interests in last year's 
list of bad debts if Japan sincerely, honestly, firmly made 
a friend of China, threw the doors wide open, — and then 
laughed a hearty, healthy laugh at the efforts of white 
men to outwit her in Asia. Propinquity has made Japan 
Oriental, it has given Japan a script that opens the doors 
for her more than for any other alien : Oriental methods, 
Oriental concepts. Oriental customs and requirements 
give Japan a better chance in China than all her millions 
of soldiers and dreadnaughts ever will. Yet the little 
mole loves it underground. 

Thus we are blindly following the Japanese mole. We 
are catering to Japanese ** sensitiveness ' ' by sending 


diplomats with a list in the direction of Japan now. 
Presently, I presume, we shall withdraw our diplomats 
from China as we did from Korea, and forget about it. 
But, then, of course, we sha'n^t. Things in the Far East 
are not going to pan out so easily, not in the matter of 
China and Japan. Ever since the first American clip- 
per flirted with Chinese trade, American interests have 
been involved in the interests of China, and they will 
continue to be so involved. Without ordinary, decent, 
honest trade among nations, the relationship of peoples 
ceases to have its reason for existence. Just imagine a 
world of nothing but tourists ! But decent trade is not 
the forcing of opium on a country against its will, as 
Britain forced it on China in the early days and as 
Japan forces it to-day. Decent trade is not the impover- 
ishing of native industries by the introduction of cheap 
products from Japanese, European, and American fac- 
tories. Neither is decent trade altruism. The spirit of 
really decent trade may be found, though not yet fully 
defined, in the motives behind the consortium; but, then, 
that scheme has not yet been proved workable. Its future 
remains to be seen, and I shall later describe it as far as it 
has gone. 

It has been admitted, even by the most prejudiced — 
and by Japanese — that America's practices in the Far 
East, and China in particular, have been essentially well- 
principled. The Philippines are restively seeking inde- 
pendence, but they cannot claim that America's 
protectorate has been discreditable. One could go on all 
the way through to the return of the Boxer Indemnity, 
and the only serious charge that can be made with truth 
is that altruism has often been accompanied by indecision 
and inefficiency. 

The question that now faces the world is whether the 
effect of Western democratic governmental methods, 
which seem to have made a sudden, yet vital, impression 
on the minds of the Chinese, shall become effective with 


time, or shall be uprooted by another Oriental country 
for whom we have expressed constantly the most affec- 
tionate regard. We do not love a child less because it 
needs correction; correction, we realize, is the necessary 
accompaniment of growth. Japan needs to be shown 
the error of her ways ; not in high-flpwn moral terms, but 
in just plain, everyday examples of the impracticability 
of her doings in China. Thus, having been instrumental 
in the opening of Japan to the world; having acquired 
possessions in the Pacific which must remain the outposts 
of democratic management of native peoples ; having set 
an example of disinterested, generous treatment of 
unwieldy China; having stood by as her friend, as her 
preceptor, her sponsor; having, in a word, made that 
inexplicable journey from the Atlantic to the farthest 
reaches of the Pacific, let the robin say of Johnny Apple- 

To the farthest West he has followed the sun, 
His life and his empire just begun. . • . 



I HAVE come now to the most delicate and most dif- 
ficult task in the whole problem, that of the dove- 
tailing of nations. Twice has this phase of the subject 
come before us: once when we met it in that welter of 
racial experiments, Hawaii and the South Seas in gen- 
eral; and again in that great outpost of the white race, 
Australasia. But in the one it is too localized, and the 
other too much in anticipation. In Hawaii it is hard to 
say which race has justly a prior right to possession; in 
Australia the problem is only imminent. 

But in California and the entire West the impact of 
the two races of the Pacific has taken place. Nothing 
but a just solution can possibly be any solution at all. 
Let me therefore define the problem at the very outset, 
lest that which is really irrelevant be expected, or insinu- 
ate itself into the discussion. 

Primarily, the problem of Japan in America is not 
a racial one. Primarily it is political, and hinges upon 
the rights of nations. Secondarily, it is economic, and 
only in so far as the political and economic factors are 
unsolvable can the problem become a racial one, and ter- 
minate in conflict. All attempts at handling the situation 
which do not take into consideration these two factors 
would be like crossing the stream to get a bucket of water. 
For nothing can be done without reciprocity, and reci- 
procity is the last thing that Japan would ever consent to, 
as it involves a transformation in her political philosophy 
and the relinquishment of her own position from the very 



outset. Hence, before we can even approach the con- 
sideration of facts in California, we must get clearly 
in mind exactly what Japan is doing within her own 
territories. Japan is the appellant. Japan demands 
that her people be given free entry the world over. We 
are not asking her to let our people enter Japan and 
her possessions as laborers and agriculturists. Hence, 
before she can make her plea at all rational, she must 
show that she herself is not discriminating in the identi- 
cal manner as the one she objects to. 

Now, in only one or two instances have I seen that 
question emphasized. In all the literature I have read 
emanating from Japanese sources, in the lectures of its 
propagandists here, I have never seen it faced fairly 
and squarely. The actions of Japan are ignored or 
glossed over. The protagonists of Japan in Califor- 
nia — Americans, mind you — ^make of it purely an Ameri- 
can issue, as though discrimination were a fault peculiar 
to ourselves. Two blacks don't make a white, but 
neither do two blacks quarrel with each other for being 

The questions in the order of their importance 
then are: 

Does Japan permit the free entrance of alien labor? 

Does Japan permit the ready purchase by aliens of 
agricultural land f 

Does Japan make the naturalization of aliens easy! 

Does Japan permit the denaturalization of its people 
abroad ? 

Now, these are all political problems, for the simple 
reason that the very economic conditions of Japan make 
them unnecessary. That is, Japanese labor is essen- 
tially cheap labor, and owing to the great crowding there 
would be little likelihood of any great influx of Korean 
or Chinese labor were the bars not raised fairly high. 
And the bars are high. The number of Koreans admitted 
is greater largely because Koreans are now subjects of 


the mikado, but even they are kept in check by Japanese 
objections to their entrance, and conflicts between Japa- 
nese and Koreans are not unknown. Chinese are per- 
mitted to enter Japan only by special permission from 
the local authorities, as provided for in a regulation in 
force since 1899. Forgetting the two hundred and fifty 
years during which the doors of Japan were sealed; 
forgetting that even after the opening of Japan a for- 
eigner had to obtain a special passport to travel from 
Kobe to Kyoto, a distance of forty miles inland; for- 
getting all the psychological factors that have by no 
means broken down the crust that still closes most of 
Japan to alien possession or acquisition, one is still 
amazed at this discrimination against fellow-subjects and 
Chinese, to whom the Japanese are in some essential 
way, at least, related. 

But let us see what happens to these people when 
they do get in. Let me quote a statement in the bulletin 
of the East and West News Bureau, a Japanese propa- 
ganda agency located in New York. 

In Japan proper the Korean laborers are estimated to number about 
20,000. Compared with Japanese laborers they are perhaps superior 
in point of physical strength, but in practical efficiency they are no 
rivals of the latter. They feel that they are handicapped by strange 
environments and different customs, which partly account for their 
low efficiency. But experienced employers assert that the Koreans are 
markedly lazy, and that their work requires overseers, which naturally 
results of curtailment of their wages. 

According to inquiries by the Osaka police on conditions among 
Korean laborers in the city, many of them have been thrown out of 
employment on account of the economic depression; that they are 
mostly engaged in rough work, such as carrying goods around or dig- 
ging holes, etc., as unskilled laborers. It states that they are indolent 
and have no interest in work which requires skill and attention; they 
are simply contented as cheap laborers. 

This quotation is illuminating in many ways. First, 
it strikes me as being anything but fair play on the part 
of Japanese in America to send out such discriminat- 
ing and unkind accounts of a people whom they have 
now taken in as fellows in an empire, and whom they 
are *' trying to assimilate,'' Secondly, it is not quite 


true, for Japanese manufacturers are going to Korea 
with their factories. If Korean laborers are efficient 
in Korea, why not in Japan 1 But the fact of the matter 
is that the Japanese, quite naturally, are not going to 
give the best jobs to Koreans with their own men round 

Now let us see what the British Vioe-Consul at Osaka 
has to say of Japanese labor, in a report to Parliament. 
Admitting that external conditions have much to do 
with the poor quality of the Japanese workman, and that 
in time and under better conditions he will improve, the 
vice-consul says: *'The standard [of intelligence] shown 
by the average workman is admittedly low,'^ while some 
of his sub-captions are: *' Docility,'' *^ Apathy," '* Cheer- 
fulness," *'Lack of Concentration," ** Scarcity of Skilled 
Labor," and under the caption ^^Why Wages are Low" 
he says: ^' Labor is plentiful and inefficient." 

It is seen, therefore, that the opinion of the vice-consul 
in the matter of the Japanese is similar to that of the 
Japanese in regard to the Korean ; and so it goes. The 
point in the whole question, to my mind is, that Japanese 
discriminate as much against other races as they are 
discriminated against. Not until Japan lays low the 
chauvinistic notions about the superiority of the most 
inferior Japanese to the best foreigner can we expect 
that other nations will set to work to remove the obstacles 
toward a clear understanding. 

In America the very reverse is true. No one ever 
asserts that the Japanese is inferior to a white man. 
What is said is that the white man is essentially an 
individualist who at maturity starts off in life by himself, 
whereas the Japanese is bound by all sorts of notions 
of ancestor-worship which submerge him completely in 
the group. Furthermore, as a group the Japanese are 
able to overcome the greatest odds that any individual 
can raise against them. The nature of that group-con- 


sciousness will be analyzed in the answer to some of the 
other questions. 


But to return to Japan: That Japan has no occasion 
for fear of a serious invasion of aliens is evident from 
recent figures that show that there are only 19,500 for- 
eigners there, of whom 12,139 are Chinese, 2,404 Britons, 
1,837 Americans, 687 Russians, 641 Germans, and 445 
French. These figures are, however, unreliable, and 
antedate the Russian Revolution. However, the ques- 
tion here pertinent is whether any of these would be 
permitted to engage in such industries as the Japanese 
engage in here; for instance, agriculture. That can be 
answered in the negative. The Japanese land law, how- 
ever generous it may seem from mere reading of the 
statutes, does not extend that privilege to foreigners. 
The first proviso of the law is that the person desiring 
to own land in Japan shall be from a country wherein 
Japanese are permitted to own land. In other words, 
if America does not allow a Japanese to acquire land, 
no American can do so in Japan. As it stands, there- 
fore, no Japanese can complain if American laws make 
a similar ruling. The second provision excludes from 
any and all ownership, in any and all circumstances, the 
Hokkaido, Formosa, Karafuto (Sakhalin), or districts 
necessary for national defense. Considering that every 
other inch of ground is held in plots of two and a half 
acres per farmer, to whom they are the beginning and 
end of subsistence, the privileges innocently extended 
are mighty short. The law virtually excludes all right 
to any agricultural lands that any foreigner might be able 
to avail himself of. 

There is one kind of real property foreigners do wish 
to own, and that is property for business purposes. But 
they cannot own that, even; they may only lease it on 
long leases under conditions that are frequently a hard- 


ship and often enough insecure. They may lease land 
under the so-called superficies lease, but that means vir- 
tually evading the law, and is always expensive. Even 
ordinary leases are frequently encroached upon, as for- 
eigners in the ports are only too well aware. While I 
was in Kobe, Japanese were forcing foreign business 
firms out of the former foreign settlement, which fully 
fifty years of white men's toil had converted from a 
worthless bit of beach land into one of the most up-to- 
date *^ suburbs'' in the Orient, and which is now the best 
part of Kobe. This was done by calling in leases, by 
making the rents prohibitive, and by *' buying out" for- 
eign lease-holders at almost exorbitant rates, just as the 
Japanese buy out white men in California. One British 
druggist. Dr. Richardson, sold for $225,000 a corner plot 
for which he had paid $12,500. He made a great profit 
in the deal, but the process by which he, and others, were 
bought out is indicative of the methods of the Japanese. 
For behind many of the real-estate dealers was the Gov- 
ernment, making loans at most favorable rates of inter- 
est with the sole object of getting back into Japanese con- 
trol as much of the port plots as possible, — cost what it 
might. Even men of lifelong residence in Japan must 
form themselves into corporations with their wives and 
some Japanese as members, in order to own the land 
upon which their residences are built. Some of these 
cases I investigated for the ** Japan Chronicle" and 
learned from the priest of the Catholic Church that pres- 
sure was constantly being exerted upon him to make him 
relinquish his hold upon the ground on which the church 
stands, because it is in the heart of the business section. 
He said he did not know how long he would be able to 
hold out against them. 

How corrupt landlords may overstep the bounds is 
illustrated by a case reported in the *^ Chronicle" of 
February 10, 1921. The editor says : 


The notorious Clarke lease suit is a case in point. This was a lease 
for twenty-five years, renewable for a further term of similar duration. 
A syndicate of Japanese was organized which purchased the land, 
knowing of the burdens upon it, with the hope of worrying the lease- 
holder either into paying more rent or into selling the lease for an 
inadequate sum. Suit after suit was brought in various names, until 
at last a court was found to give judgment raising the rent on the 
ground that taxes had increased and the value of sun'ounding prop- 
erties had expanded since the lease was made. In justification of a 
judgment upholding this decision, the Osaka Appeal Court declared 
that there was a local custom in Kobe which permitted a landlord to 
raise the rent in certain circumstances. No evidence was produced 
in support of this contention, which was clearly against all contract 
law and rendered lease agreements meaningless. The result was that 
the gang of speculators who had banded themselves together to despoil 
a foreigner were successful. The holder of the lease was forced to 
sell and the syndicate profited greatly. 

If the argument is raised that you will find bad people 
everywhere, and that one cannot take the poorest type 
of person and set him up as the example, let us recall 
the case of the Doshisha University. There, because of 
these selfsame land and property laws. The American 
Board of Commissioners for Foreign Missions placed 
the million dollars^ worth of property in the hands of 
Christian Japanese directors. Presently the Govern- 
ment brought pressure to bear upon these directors, and 
they yielded to their Government. In February, 1898, 
they virtually ousted the foreign owners, turned the insti- 
tution into a secular college, and saw nothing dishonest 
nor immoral in the action. Japanese have of course 
come to a better understanding of the rights in such 
cases, nor am I trying to impugn the integrity of the 
*' better-class" of Japanese. I am merely bringing evi- 
dence to prove that not only are Japanese laws with 
regard to the ownership of land by foreigners as dis- 
criminatory as those of California, but their interpreta- 
tion is a serious handicap to aliens in Japan. 

In America the fight is not to prevent Japanese from 
taking hold of land for business purposes, but to prevent 
them from monopolizing farming-lands, which, as Mr. 
Walter Pitkin has shown so clearly in his book, ^'Must 
We Fight Japan! '* are rapidly passing out of American 


hands because of our vicious shallowness in agrarian 
matters. I am not as yet bringing up the question of 
fairness, justice, generosity, or the rights of over- 
crowded Japan. I am merely making parallels which 
seem to me telling. 

Does Japan make the naturalization of aliens easy? 
As far as the letter of the law goes, there appears noth- 
ing in the eyes of a layman that might stand in the way 
of a man, already married and with children, from 
becoming a Japanese subject. There is no legal dis- 
crimination against any race or color. But notwith- 
standing that there now are 20,000 foreigners in Japan, 
and that the number throughout the years must have 
been much greater, there are on record only nine cases 
of foreigners having been naturalized between 1904 and 
1913; two English, two American, five French; and ten 
cases of adoptions by marriage into Japanese families. 
These, to my knowledge, do not include men previously 
married. They are all cases of men who have married 
Japanese women, or of women who have married Japan- 
ese men. There have been 158 Chinese who became 
naturalized. This does not indicate that naturalization 
is easy — except by marriage — and the general consensus 
of opinion is that it would take a man fully fifteen years 
to become naturalized in the due process of law. 

Furthermore, the restrictions attached to the acquisi- 
tion of Japanese nationality take all the sweetness out 
of the plum, for even after you have gone through the 
regular processes and have been permitted to sit 
** amongst these gods on sainted seats,'' there are still 
exalted pedestals beyond your reach. You may not 
become a Minister of State, President, or Vice-President, 
or a member of the Privy Council ; an official of chokunin 
(imperial-appointment) rank in the Imperial Household 
Department; an Envoy Extraordinary and Minister 


Plenipotentiary ; a general officer in the army and navy ; 
president of the Supreme Court, of the Board of Audit, 
or of the Court of Administrative Litigation ; or member 
of the Imperial Diet. Nor are the professions in all 
cases open to you. 

However, this is a minor matter compared with that 
of the inability on the part of any Japanese to accept 
another nationality without official consent. If he resides 
abroad after his seventeenth birthday he cannot in any 
circumstances become a citizen of that other country 
unless he has completed his military service. Women 
may freely relinquish their nationality through mar- 
riage ; not so men. If men are born abroad, they must 
make a voluntary request for denaturalization between 
the ages of fifteen and seventeen, but such other factors 
are involved that only a negligible number of American- 
born Japanese have ever attempted to rid themselves of 
their ancestral connections; and there is one case on 
record in which the Government refused on a technical- 
ity, for the child had applied for denationalization ac- 
cording to Western reckoning, whereas Japanese count 
the child's age as from the day of conception, not birth. 

In view of this, then, there seems no point whatever 
in the fuss made about Japanese being barred from 
citizenship. Again, I am not discussing the advisability 
of this restriction, but merely trying to brush aside many 
of the webs that have been spun for the netting of sym- 
pathy. The relations between Japan and America are 
thus involved in an infinite number of petty political 
regulations on each side, and nothing but a complete 
sweeping away of all restrictions on both sides would 
ever assume even the semblance of justice. But how 
far is Japan ready and willing to go in this denational- 
ization of herself? The most casual study of her 
nationalistic aims and aspirations answers that ques- 

That the problem is essentially a problem for Japan 


to solve is self-evident. That it is political and not racial, 
and that this political problem is rooted in Japan's 
economic condition, is likewise clear. For no nation loses 
its nationals except when the conditions at home are 
worse than those abroad, worse than those of the country 
to which her people wish to emigrate. Australia and 
New Zealand find it almost impossible to lure out British 
laborers, while Germany's desire for room was largely 
for the utilization of her mechanics and scientists and 
others whom she had trained in such large numbers that 
she had n 't enough work for them at home. Two changes 
in the structure of world economics have accentuated a 
condition of racial conflict which have hitherto been vir- 
tually non-existent. Religious and political conflicts 
have always obtained, but the color line has been drawn 
only in very recent times. As long as black and yellow 
people have been of a lower order and have been willing 
to serve the white, there was never any serious disorder 
between them. The color line is not marked even 
in Europe to-day, for the same reason that it is not 
marked in Japan. Europe is herself too crowded to be 
a desirable immigration station. Whatever the causes 
of conflict may have been, to-day it is clear that they lie 
in the endeavor on the part of white labor to maintain a 
better standard of living than Oriental labor has yet 
attained. And in exactly the degree to which certain 
Oriental labor groups have risen above others, the con- 
flict becomes manifest, — to wit, the objection on the part 
of Japanese labor to Korean and Chinese coolies. No 
serious conflicts take place between Fijian laborers and 
Indian coolies, because the Fijian maintains his standard 
under competition, that being lower than the Indian's. 
We have therefore to study the problem of Japanese 
in America, the so-called race conflict, not so much as 
it develops here but at its source, Japan. And there, if 
I read Japanese conditions aright, the problem is politi- 
cal and psychological in the main. Japan has come very 


far along material modernization; she has virtually 
stepped up to the front rank of nations. But the most 
casual observation reveals that that is only so in part, 
that the advance is made as a government, not as a 
people. That government is rooted in antiquated 
notions, is vicious in many of its aspects, and is opposed 
to even the most conservative developments of Western 
countries. That government refuses to recognize the 
social forces that are at work within Japan for the 
leveling upward of classes. And there is the rub. 

Glancing over the history of the nineteenth century, 
we realize that all nations have passed through a con- 
tinuous struggle of the masses for betterment of their 
conditions, political and social as well as economic. Dur- 
ing the greater part of that century Japan lay dormant, 
its masses mentally mesmerized. The sudden impact 
of the West has stunned the people more than awakened 
them. Only part of the social body is coming to life, — a 
limb, an essential organ. To be generous, I might say the 
brain is working, though from many of the actions of 
Nippon that would seem doubtful. But certain it is that 
whether it is the brain or merely the spinal column, in- 
stead of limbering up the rest of the body as rapidly as 
possible, it is trying to retard it. Hence, the feverish 
condition of the country. 

This is not mere speculation. As I have said, only 
such countries as have an inferior economic condition 
suffer from the exodus of their laboring people. That 
exodus takes place for several reasons. From Europe 
it has come because of the hunger for religious freedom, 
to escape political oppression, or merely to get a new 
start in life. And though we have few political or reli- 
gious exiles in America from the Land of the Rising Sun, 
they come because of an unconscious desire for relief 


from Japanese social domination. I am convinced that 
that which most Japanese so prefer in America is that 
sense of individual freshness, that desire for individual 
expression, for freedom from the clutch of family and 
oligarchy. It is unconscious, and without doubt few 
Japanese when brought face to face with the issues 
would admit it, so deeply ingrained is the education and 
training at the hands of the political administrators. 
Only here and there is some such statement made, with 
an eye to the press and the galleries. 

Were Japan to extend to the masses greater freedom, 
there would be plenty of work for them at home. There 
is scientific advancement to be made. Japanese are 
frightfully behind in the scientific habit. I have been 
told by a friend at one of our greatest institutions of 
medical experimentation that with but one exception the 
Japanese who come there have to be constantly dismissed 
for their incompetence. There was no anti-Japanese 
sentiment in the mind of the person who made this state- 
ment. Japanese still need generations of training to 
acquire the scientific spirit. Their historians prove this. 
In the business of life Japanese have plenty of work at 
home which could easily absorb all the man-power, both 
masculine and feminine, at their command, without the 
necessity of shipping any of it abroad. But the vulgar 
acquisition of wealth, the vulgar acquisition of political 
prestige in the world, the vulgar appeal for equality which 
no man or nation with true dignity and self-respect 
would mouth to the extent that Japanese officialdom has 
mouthed it, the vulgar wearing of its sensitiveness on 
its sleeve, — it is these with which bureaucratic Japan is 
preoccupied. While, at home, every effort on the part 
of Japanese to secure manhood suffrage, to arise to the 
dignity of true men, of which the masses are as capable 
as any race on earth, is discouraged. On the one hand 
pleading, in mendicant fashion, for racial equality 
abroad ; on the other, refusal to give the people at home 


racial equality. On one hand it is asserted loudly that 
*'The Japanese do not like to be regarded as inferior 
to any other people. In no country will they be content 
with discriminatory treatment'^ ;^ on the other, Prime 
Minister Hara answers the demand for the franchise 
with the maudlin fear that it would break down *' dis- 
tinction. ^ ' 

So that the problem of Japan and the world is largely 
a political problem which she must face at home. Rais- 
ing the standard of living; increasing the economic wel- 
fare of the masses; extending the rights of the people 
who are clamoring for it in sections, not only to the 
intelligent elements but down to the very eta; cleansing 
the social pores of the empire, — these will in themselves 
automatically solve the problem for the world. The 
people don't want conquest. They are not aggressive. 
But the misguided leaders, — there 's the rub. 

As to Japan in America — or, more specifically, the 
Japanese in California — the problem is for us to solve. 
I once heard an American sentimentalist who practises 
law, and hence assured an audience he ought to know 
what he was talking about, say that the trouble in Cali- 
fornia was that the Japanese will work and the Ameri- 
can is an idler and won't work. Why he was n't howled 
out of the auditorium I don't know. That America has 
reared this vast continent and made it one of the most 
productive countries in the world did not seem to enter 
the head of this lawyer. Yet the Japanese problem will 
not be solved by exclusion alone. 

We hear constantly that the reason for the conflict is 
that Japanese as groups and as tireless workers are 
able to outwork Americans ; and, in certain special types 
of industry, that is proved. But were the conditions 

* From the Kokumin, a leading newspaper. 


made more acceptable to Americans in those industries, 
and were we to devise mechanical means of production 
suited to them, it would not be long before Japanese 
labor would find it extremely unprofitable to come here, 
just as it finds it unprofitable to go to Manchuria and 
Korea, where it has to compete with the cheaper Chinese 
and Korean labor. Laws and restrictions can always be 
evaded, and the price of vigilance is more costly than 
the gain. But those laws that are basic in the condition 
of life no man can evade. 

The Gentlemen's Agreement has not worked because 
gentlemen themselves seldom work. It has not worked 
because it has denied America the right, as all nations 
claim it, to determine who shall or shall not come in. 
Gentlemen never exact such agreements from their 
friends. They realize that a man's home is his domain, 
to be entered only on invitation. Furthermore, the 
agreement is not mutually retroactive. It says that 
Japan has a right to decide the issue, and promises not 
to permit coolie labor to enter America. I shall not enter 
the statistical controversy as to whether flocks of Japa- 
nese have or have not evaded the agreement. An agree- 
ment such as that should be evaded, and was loose enough 
to make evasion simple. That is enough of an argu- 

Japan pleads for room on account of the tremendous 
increase in her population every year. When a great 
appeal is made, the number is stated as 700,000 or 
800,000, according to the emotional condition of the 
appellant. Professor Dewey contends that the Japa- 
nese Government, in its own records, admits to only some 
800,000 or 400,000 a year. Whether the increase in 
California is or is not as stated, on one side or the other, 
matters little. Japan's grounds for appealing for room 
are sufficient. If the increase is so disgustingly large 
in Japan, it stands to reason that it would be as large, if 
not larger here, where economic opportunity makes 


increase possible and desirable. Every child born in 
America is a handle worth getting hold of. But on the 
other hand, it is also true that wherever Japanese better 
their standard of living their birth-rate falls, as with 
every race. In which case there is only one answer to 
Japan ^s appeal for more room; Better your standard of 
living and you will not need to invade our house. That 
disgusting process of breeding which aggressive nations 
indulge in should be decried from the house-tops. It is 
no great mark of civilization to breed like mosquitos. 
Mosquitos need to reproduce by the millions because 
their eggs are consumed by the millions by preying crea- 
tures. Civilization makes it possible for those born to 
survive. (See Appendix D.) 

Some students of Far Eastern affairs, like J. 0. P. 
Bland, urge that Japan has a right to the occupation of 
Siberia; and none will gainsay that. But the fact is 
that though free to go both to Korea and Manchuria, 
Japanese have not gone to these regions even to the ex- 
tent of one year's increase in population during the last 
ten years. Where, then, is the argument? As has been 
shown, they do not go as settlers because cheap continen- 
tal labor makes it unprofitable. They go as business-men, 
as the advance-guard of the empire, as the rear-guard of 
the army. No one has ever raised a voice against the 
migration of Japanese to these unpopulated regions — 
with the exception, perhaps, of the natives. But ever and 
always one feels the hand of imperial Japan behind each 
little man from the empire, and that hold on her nationals 
is the thing that vigorous nations resent, because it 
threatens to impair their status. 

That is what California and the sixteen other states 
who share her views feel. They are conscious of some 
subsidy behind every extensive purchase of land. From 
somewhere Japanese get enough money to buy anything 
they want. It is always the paternalistic arm of the 
Government round every little son of Nippon, or the em- 


brace of his family. That is where the problem begins 
and that is where it ends. If only some chemical sub- 
stance could be discovered that, when poured over the 
Oriental, would separate him from the mass, he would be 
as good a fellow as can be found anywhere in the world. 
But that was what always irritated me in my relations 
with Japanese in Japan. I never met a man I liked but 
that in order to enjoy association with him I had to tol- 
erate his group. If I started off anywhere with one, I 
soon had a retinue. That racial clannishness is to be 
found everywhere, but nowhere is it more sticky than in 
ancestor-worshiping Japan. 

Consequently, in whatever manner the problem is 
finally solved here in America, one thing is agreed upon 
by both Japanese and anti-Japanese, — that those here 
will have to be redistributed over the country, their 
clannishness broken up. That is a problem which affects 
not only the Japanese. However, nothing that is now 
done should in any way be retroactive so as to deprive 
any single Japanese of the fruits of his labor. Whatever 
solution is found for the Japanese problem in America, 
one thing is certain, — that no war will ever be fought 
because of Japanese immigration to America. Japan, 
as has been shown, would have to readjust her own po- 
litical thinking to such an extent as virtually to revolu- 
tionize conditions in Japan in order to make an issue of 
the citizenship problem and the matter of alien landown- 
ership here. Such a revolution would considerably re- 
duce the scope of the issues, they would fall apart and 
virtually cease to exist. 

If we are looking for the causes of a possible conflict 
in the Pacific, they must be sought not in California but 
in China. The dovetailing of the angle of our triangle 
in America is contingent upon the dovetailing of the 
angle of the triangle in Asia. The one in America can 
be dislodged only by a wrenching apart of the angle 
in Asia. 


Japan's hegemony in Asia is a serious matter. Japan 
is an industrial nation now. She is entitled to access 
to unused resources in China. Propinquity accedes this, 
but propinquity precludes the necessity of submerging 
China in the process. The Open Door in China means 
peace in the Pacific. We leave it to time to determine 
what the walling up of that door would mean. 




THE tempest in the European teapot has become a 
tornado in the Pacific. Small as the Balkans are, 
they were the stumbling-block in the way of the down- 
ward expansion of the European powers. 

The tragedy in Europe has left Europe in the back- 
ground. Civilization is rapidly veering round in the 
direction of the Pacific. There are little nations to-day 
whose possession is as fraught with unhappy conse- 
quences as anything in southern Europe ever was. Yet we 
hear innocent dispensers of information assure us that 
Yap is only a little speck in the Pacific over which no one 
would think of going to war. They forget that America 
nearly went to war with Germany in 1889 over the Sa- 
moan Islands, which then meant much less to her. And 
the settlement in Europe at the Peace Conference has 
greatly enhanced the position of the present powers in 
the Pacific. 

Until very recently two developments in Pacific affairs 
had not been given as much prominence in the press as 
they deserved. One, the Anglo-Japanese Alliance, and 
the other the British Imperial Conferences, held every 
other year since 1907. Just in proportion as the Imperial 
Conferences have become, as it were, a super-Parliament 
to Great Britain, so has the Anglo-Japanese Alliance 
waned. And just as the so-called mandates over the 
various island groups in the mid-Pacific congeal from 
lofty aspirations to concrete management there are 
emerging in the Pacific the identical antagonisms that 



made of the little group of states in Southern Europe the 
cause of the conflict. 

The Anglo-Japanese Alliance was formed in 1902. Its 
aim was to oust Russia, and to guarantee British inter- 
ests in China. Later on it was revised to include Japa- 
nese protection over India. But consonant with that 
agreement there blossomed in the British Empire a new 
thing to be reckoned with, — an independent Australian 
navy. That navy has by no means matured, it is not 
and cannot for years to come be a great consideration 
in the Pacific, but it has been from the start prophetic 
and explanatory of much that is taking place to-day. It 
is at the bottom of the problem, because it is the begin- 
ning of Australian independence, of her rise to nation- 
hood. Let me rehearse the historical incidents in con- 
nection with this development. 

Now, until the advent of that navy all the colonies had 
been paying certain sums yearly toward the mainte- 
nance of the British Navy, — Canada, Australia, New Zea- 
land alike. But with the federation of the Common- 
wealth, Australia began to agitate in no mistaken terms 
for a navy of her own, to be built and manned by Aus- 
tralians, and kept in Australian waters, rushing only in 
an emergency to the support of the empire. Canada de- 
cided otherwise, — i.e., to build her own ships, but to 
merge them with the home fleet ; New Zealand continued 
the old scheme. Being twelve hundred miles away from 
Australia, her isolation and her inadequate resources and 
population made her more timorous. With Australia the 
construction of a separate little fleet was the beginning 
of a straining at the leash. Then came the Anglo-Japa- 
nese Alliance, which, while it allayed the fears of the Aus- 
tralians somewhat, intensified certain other phases of 
the problem, such as the White-Australia policy. The 
Russo-Japanese War did nothing to allay apprehension 
on the part of the Australasians. 

For years both the Dominion and the Commonwealth 


were absolutely obsessed by the naval question. Sir 
Joseph Ward, the Prime Minister of New Zealand, cham- 
pioned a single, undivided imperial navy; the late Mr. 
Alfred Deakin of Australia stood out strongly in favor 
of an independent navy. Seeing little hope of a very 
strong concession from England, Deakin extended and 
urged an invitation, in 1908, to the American fleet to 
visit Australia. He admitted that his object was to 
arouse Britain to fear an Australian- American ^'alli- 
ance.'' The thrust went home. The English ''felt that 
it was using strong measures for an Australian states- 
man to use a foreign fleet as a means of forwarding a 
project which was not approved by the Admiralty. ' ' But 
even Sir Joseph Ward let himself go to the extent of de- 
claring that they welcomed America as ' ' natural allies in 
the coming struggle against Japanese domination. ' ' 

And when at last the American fleet came to Australia, 
it received an ovation such as still rings in the conversa- 
tion of any Australian with an American. For an entire 
week Sydney celebrated. Melbourne followed suit ; New 
Zealand could not but take up the cue. Every one pointed 
with pride to the similarity between the Australian and 
the American. Australian girls virtually threw them- 
selves into the arms of American sailors. It is even 
said that many a sailor remained behind with an Aus- 
tralian wife. Not even the Prince of Wales (now King 
George) was given such an ovation. 

After that visit, so cordial was the attitude of Aus- 
tralians that everywhere they talked of floating the Stars 
and Stripes in the event of — ^what! In the event of 
pressure from Downing Street or from Tokyo. The 
Australian temperament is not one which buries its griev- 
ances or harbors ill-feeling. The Australian speaks right 
out that whicJi is on his mind. And though much must 
be discounted because of this bubbling personality, almost 
primitive in its extremes, nothing that affects Australia 
can long be ignored by us. 


Frankly, the situation is this : Australia is set on her 
so-called White-Australia policy. Australia made it 
clear to England that, alliance or no alliance, she would 
never swerve from her policy of excluding Japanese and 
Chinese. When the American fleet appeared, knowing 
the exclusion of Orientals practised in America, Aus- 
tralia felt that bond of fellowship which comes from com- 
man danger. And everything was done to develop friend- 
ship; America became the pattern for everything Aus- 
tralian. Never particularly fond of the Englishman, at 
times discriminating against him as much as against the 
Oriental, advertising that ^^ No Englishman Need Apply" 
when looking for labor, afraid of the little yellow man 
up there, — ^Australia naturally looked to America as a 
possible defender. 

But along came the European war. Great Britain 
was in danger. America held aloof. Then everything 
changed. The wave of anti- American sentiment in Aus- 
tralia was much more pronounced than in New Zealand. 
This was a strange anomaly, for inherently New Zealand 
is much more imperialistic. But it was characteristic of 
the Australian. There was almost a boycott against 
American goods. One firm published a scurrilous adver- 
tisement which the American Consul-General at Mel- 
bourne showed me and said he had sent to Washington. 
For a time it looked rather serious, but in view of the 
Australian character, its importance was not very great. 
It was the impetuosity of a little boy, disgruntled because 
his opinion was not feared. Many said openly: **We 
were so fond of America and thought you were our friend. 
From now on we don't want anything from you. We 
don't want your protection.'' 

Yet, as late as December 8, 1916, the Sydney ** Morn- 
ing Herald" said editorially: *^And those of vs who think 
of a possible run imder America's wings forget that her 
strength at present is proportionately no greater than 
our own [Australia's]. She is not ready for either 


offence or defence and she knows it. This being so, can 
we ask Great Britain/' etc. The feeling toward America 
at that time was only commensurate with the petty jeal- 
ousies that now rankle somewhat because of fear that 
America has taken to herself too much credit for the 
accomplishment of victory. But then it gave that stim- 
ulus to navalism in the South that the Australians 
wanted; further, it gave birth to the movement for 
greater independence in imperial affairs, which for 
twenty-five years had determined the policies of the 
several states. 

Just recently a New Zealand navalist, writing in the 
** Auckland Weekly News'' (New Zealand), brought up 
the dread specter ** balance of power" again, calling 
attention to the fact that inasmuch as Japan is a great 
naval power and America is increasing her naval 
strength, it is for democratic Australasia to see to it 
that Great Britain does not lag behind with its fleet in 
the Pacific, — to maintain the balance of power. And 
the further sad fact was revealed that Australasia (seen 
in the expression of this one individual at least) did not 
care particularly whether, in the event of conflict, they 
were on the side of America or Japan. 

Feeling did not take the same turn in New Zealand. 
That little country continued in its more imperialistic 
tendencies, was content to be a finger in the great hand 
of empire. In 1909, at the Imperial Conference, Mr. 
Joseph Ward sprung a surprise by offering a battle- 
cruiser to the Government without consulting his con- 
stituents at home. For this he was knighted. But the 
New Zealanders were in a mood to make him pay for it 
himself when he returned. Mr. (now Sir Joseph) Ward 
was severely criticized for what he did. He was ridi- 
culed even by the university lads during their ** Cap- 
ping Carnival." They took him off in effigy and carried 
a little boat with a sign saying : * * This is the toy he bought 
his crown with." Upon his return from the conference 


he lost his Prime Ministership and a ^^ conservative^' gov- 
ernment came into power. Later developments so justi- 
fied him that he became a sort of political idol for a 
while. When the cruiser visited New Zealand, in 1913, 
the excitement knew no bounds. 

Germany was always regarded as a potential enemy. 
The colonies had always arched their backs at the prox- 
imity of Ge^-man possessions in the South Seas. When 
in 1889 Samoa was the bone of contention, the colonies 
were rather eager to have America take it, in preference 
to the Germans. Then, as Japan came to the fore, Amer- 
ica as a potential protection became more and more 
obvious to Australasians. The Panama Canal intensi- 
fied their conviction. They looked forward to a com- 
bination of British and American power for the further- 
ance of peace as they conceived it should be maintained, 
and consciousness of their own destiny in the Pacific 
was stimulated. Suddenly they were brought close to 
the United States. The anti-Japanese riots in Califor- 
nia, the annexation of Hawaii, the protectorate over the 
Philippines all pointed to the Australasians lessons for 
their own guidance. They could not expect from Eng- 
land the same keen interest in racial questions which 
manifested itself in America. America demonstrated 
the dangers of having two unmixable races like the white 
and the black together ; Hawaii showed them that Asiatic 
immigration is a breeder of trouble. They do not seem 
to see that circumstances are not the same, that the pres- 
sure of population has become much more keen, that 
industrial conditions in the world to-day are altogether 
different from what they were when Great Britain 
refused to have her American colonies put down the 
kidnapping of Africans; that America to-day has 
110,000,000 people and has encouraged them to come from 
every country in Europe, as Australia does not. 

Australia looks only at the most obvious phase of 
the problem, — that certain people are not happy together. 

@ Underwood & Underwood Photo by Brown Bros. 


The "Fathers" of the Anglo-Japanese alliance 

© Underwood & Underwood 


Japan's foremost statesman assassinated in 

Korea. October 26, 1909 

Photo from Adachi 

President of South China Republic 

© Underwood & Underwood 


© Underwood & Underwood 

Chinese Ambassador to Great Britain 


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K; aM^Sp 



''r ^i^-' ''^"^ -^ ^^S^m V 




P-T\ 1 



^'^'^llHi fn.iu A< 

The most prominent Liberal in Japan 


Whether or not she over-estimates her own strength 
against the pressure of changed conditions, remains to 
be seen, but she is pursuing her own course with a cer- 
tain steadfastness that is at once a pathetic blindness 
and a courageous self-assertion. In a country whose 
political outlook is essentially generous, whose labor 
experiments have been extremely costly to her, it strikes 
one as a great contradiction of principle. How can a 
labor government be so utterly opposed to the extension 
of ideal opportunities to laborers from other lands seek- 
ing to enjoy them? How can she be so utterly capital- 
istic on a national scale when nearly everything within 
her own ken is laboristic? The explanation of this 
enigma lies in a certain measure in the manner in which 
Australia has set about making herself independent of 
her mother country and, while working indirectly for the 
break-up of the empire, is becoming imperial in her own 
small way. All these counter currents must be seen 
clearly before understanding can follow. They whirl 
about the pillar of imperialism — England — and have 
come out clearly since the war. They hinge upon the 
mandates over the South Sea Islands. 

While, as has been shown, Australia has for twenty 
years pursued a course that threatens to lead toward 
separation from England, New Zealand has bound her- 
self -closer and closer. Australia, however, has been 
extremely shy of any semblance of rupture. She does 
not want to break away. She feels her isolation too 
much. But what she wants is in a sense the rights that 
American states have within the Union. She wants to 
be independent, to be able to develop in her own way, 
to expand, if necessary, without danger of attack. This 
spirit is inherent in the Australian temperament. When 
I told any Australian that I was traveling and tramping 
on **me own,'* he could not understand it. He could not 


go without a mate. He wanted to be sure that if he got 
into any scrape and was with his back to the wall, his 
mate was there to help him. Still, he wanted to fight 
alone. It did not seem to occur to any of these people 
that a civilized man might go the wild world over and 
not have occasion to fight. And this trait comes out in 
Australian international relations. She wants to pur- 
sue the White-Australia policy contrary to sentiment 
in England, to develop her own navy, to hold .the whole 
continent against the time when full nationhood will 
have become a reality. But for the time at least she 
will not declare her independence of Great Britain. She 
will not even give Britain the imperial preference in 
trade which would compensate her for her trouble. But 
she did show in the last war that she realized her respon- 
sibilities. In the Boer War it was said that her assist- 
ance was merely for the sake of giving her men adventure 
and practice for possible later use in her own defense. 
And in this war conscription was defeated because, as it 
was openly declared, it was not certain what the turn of 
affairs in Europe might be. It was felt imperative that 
the men be not all gone and the continent left undefended. 
And that contingency was voiced by the Premier of 
Queensland as involving — Japan. To the outsider, 
Australians attitude seems extremely selfish, but to 
enthusiastic young Australia, with the wide world before 
her, with a future that looks as promising as that of 
America, it seems the only logical one. And as long as 
her potential enemies do not take the trouble to show 
by deeds that they are not enemies, her reasoning is not 

But a strange thing has happened to Australia. She 
has got what she was after, and now she hardly wants it. 
She fought for the imperial conference method of set- 
tling imperial affairs. Australians have time and again 
declared that though an empire, they are a nation first 
and foremost. That the empire represented too hetero- 


geneous a list of peoples for them to forget that an 
Indian, though part of the empire, is still an inferior as 
far as they are concerned. And Australia realized that 
the mother country could not see eye to eye with her on 
that score. Yet she insists on the Anglo-Japanese Alli- 
ance remaining in some form acceptable to her and to 
America. How is that to be? What has happened since 
peace was declared? 

Australia and New Zealand were loudest in the protest 
against the return of the South Sea Islands to the Ger- 
mans. New Zealand soldiers had taken Samoa; the 
Australian navy — ^what there was of it — ^had cleared the 
neighboring seas of German raiders. But though they 
asked that Germany be deprived of the possessions, and 
though the leaders thundered for a New Zealand man- 
date over Samoa and an Australian mandate over New 
Guinea, the people realized that they did not particularly 
care for the burden of looking after these lands. Mr. 
Hughes of Australia urged annexation. The people as 
a whole preferred that Great Britain should annex them 
and guarantee the dominions against possible dangers 
from enemy control. They felt they could not stand the 
cost of governing them. They were even not averse to 
their being turned over to America. They have come to 
realize that they were much better off before the war, 
when they merely contributed their small quota to the 
support of the navy; now Great Britain has intimated 
that she can no longer maintain that navy without their 
full share in its costs. Besides, the mandate over the 
islands is not going to be simple. 

Before giving consideration to the developments which 
not even the Australasians had anticipated, let us look 
upon the gains they have made. They have acquired 
some new possessions which make of them an empire 
within the empire, as it were. The islands of the south 
Pacific are to be ruled as though they were an integral 


part of New Zealand and Australia, yet they have their 
own facets just as the Dominions had their own problems 
within the empire. They afford them certain commer- 
cial advantages : copra and cocoa from Samoa, phosphate 
from Nauru, which alone has an estimated deposit 
amounting to forty-two million tons. Nauru is of utmost 
importance to them because they are extensive agricul- 
tural countries. It has been agreed that Great Britain 
take 42%, Australia 42%, and New Zealand 16% of the 
export. The South Seas as a whole supply 14.7% of 
the world's copra supply, and this may yet be greatly 
increased. But this is nothing compared with the advan- 
tages they afford as ports of call. Further, if the plan 
of linking the islands together by wireless is effected, 
they will become an outer frontier for the Antipodes 
of inestimable value. There is even a faint suggestion 
of binding them together into one separate governmental 
entity, — a buffer state, as it were, between the big powers 
in the Pacific. 

But what are these few assets compared with the 
greatly extended line of defense now left to the Domin- 
ion to keep up? What is that to the great problem of 
how to develop the native races I Australia is interested 
in developing Queensland, a tropical region, not the dis- 
tant island beyond. The question of labor is bad enough 
for themselves, without having added regions to worry 
about. Throughout the Pacific the problem of where to 
secure man-power is pressing. Hawaii cries for labor; 
Samoa is in a similar state ; Fiji is troubled with the in- 
dentured Indians now there. Go where one will, the 
islands would yield readily enough if cheap labor were 
available. But Australia and New Zealand are not will- 
ing to exploit these islands at the expense of cheap 
Asiatic labor which evolves into a racial problem as soon 
as its returns become adequate. As for the mandates 
both labor and capital in the South Seas are not keen 
about these war orphans. A further problem is, what 


will happen when the policy applied to island posses- 
sions conflicts with the course permitted by the law of 
the mandate? What is worse yet, the mandate over 
the South Seas has brought Japan closer by hundreds 
of miles to both New Zealand and Australia, and has 
thrown open the question of admission of Asiatic peo- 
ple to these islands. The Australasians feel that 
they are obliged to protect not only themselves from 
Asiatic competition, but the native races as well. If 
they are to carry out the provisions of the mandate to 
rule the islands for the good of the natives, they feel 
that they cannot introduce Asiatic labor, which under- 
mines the natives economically and morally every time 
it is attempted. These are some of the problems Aus- 
tralasia inherited from the Peace Conference. 

How have they affected the relations of New Zealand 
and the Commonwealth of Australia with Great Britain? 
They have put a new strain upon the empire as such; 
they have put an added strain upon the relations be- 
tween Japan and Great Britain; they have driven a 
wedge into the Anglo-Japanese Alliance. 

Further, the whole question of mandates as it per- 
tains to the Pacific has completely opened new sores. 
The island of Yap, which has been in the press so much 
of late, is an example. A blow at so vital a factor in 
world relations as cables would be like a blow on the 
medulla oblongata. Yet under that new and misleading 
term, ** mandate," Yap became Japanese, and the near 
future is not likely to know just what was done when 
Germany's colonies were apportioned under its ruling. 
Yet what is fair for Great Britain and the Dominions 
should be fair for Japan, and if mandate means posses- 
sion for one it ought to mean it for the other. But where 
do we come in and where the peace of the Pacific? Al- 
ready, as stated elsewhere, Japan has had in mind the 
fortification of the Marshall Islands. She is proceeding 
to fortify the Bonin Islands and the Pescadores. She 


is, according to a very recent rumor, — and rumors are 
really the only things one can secure in such matters, — 
establishing an airship station on the southeast coast of 
Formosa, — not on the west, which would shorten her 
distance to China, but on the east, cutting down mileage 
to the Philippines. And we ? Well, we know what we are 
about, too. Hence, the sooner such matters as mandates 
are defined, the better for the world. 

How would these things work out with the new British 
arrangement as to the control of the Dominions? We 
have seen that behind the whole struggle for the devel- 
opment of an Australian navy was the desire for greater 
independence. As long as the war lasted, no trouble- 
some topics were broached. Now that the war is over, 
one may expect the feathers to begin to fly. The Domin- 
ions are not stifling their desire for greater and greater 
freedom. They were involved in a colossal war without 
ever having been consulted. They feel that now they 
have earned their right to express judgment on interna- 
tional affairs. They realize that nothing could be done 
effectively if Downing Street were hampered by several 
wills at work at the same time. Yet it is obvious that the 
people of the Dominions are concerned first with their 
own affairs, as nations, and are devoted to Britain only 
in a secondary manner. They are now conscious of their 
power, and are determined to wield it. They have made 
and are doing everything to continue to make friends 
on their own, by whom they mean to stand through thick 
and thin. At the Peace Conference they were not in- 
ferior to any of the deliberators, and signed the Peace 
Treaty as virtual members of the League of Nations. 

**But,'' asks the Wellington '^Evening Post,'' ^*are 
the Dominions ever to cast an international vote against 
the Mother Country on a question relating, say, to the 


future of the Pacific regarding which their interests and 
wishes might rather harmonize with those of the United 

Mr. Massey, the Prime Minister of New Zealand, on 
the other hand, held * * that the Dominions had signed the 
Treaty not as independent nations in the ordinary sense, 
but as nations within the Empire or partners in the Em- 
pire. ' ' 

But to show how complicated the whole position was, 
a Mr. W. Downie Stewart, M.P., pointed out that 

When New Zealand signed the Peace Treaty . . . she took upon her- 
self the status of a power involving herself in all the rights and obliga- 
tions of one of the signatories. . . . That means that she may have 
created for herself a new status altogether in the world of foreign 
affairs, and instead of being an act to bring together more closely the 
component parts of the Empire, it may be that it was the first and 
most serious step toward obtaining our independence and treating 
ourselves as a sovereign power. 

And in connection with Samoa he says the time may come 
when, having been recognized as an independent power, 
they will be told ^'we look to you in future, whenever a 
question of internal affairs arises, to act as an inde- 
pendent power, making peace or war on your own initia- 

Prime Minister Hughes, of Australia, however, has 
been steering a middle course. Hie points to the dangers 
lying ahead, and to the absolute necessity of keeping 
close to Britain. He urges that the alliance with Japan 
be renewed, but in such a way as to leave no danger of 
losing America's friendship. But he shows that the 
spirit of independence is still uppermost in Australia. 
Declaring that * * The June Conference has not been called 
to even consider Constitutional changes," he adds: **It 
it is painfully evident from articles which have appeared 
in the press and in magazines . . . that to a certain type 
of mind, the Constitution of the British Empire is far 
from what it should be." 

But though Hughes is to-day the leader of Australia, 


it is not because lie has the country back of him. It is 
rather because there is unfortunately no better man on 
hand. He has never cared much for consistency, and 
even in the matter of the Anglo-Japanese Alliance there 
is a suggestion of yielding that makes one feel uncertain. 
He has declared that at the present conference the ques- 
tion of a reorganization of the Government so as to 
give the Dominions a direct share in the control of im- 
perial affairs is not even being thought of, but it is evi- 
dent in his speech that that question is going to be de- 
layed only because more pressing matters, such as the 
Anglo-Japanese Alliance and Imperial Naval Defense, 
must be dealt with first. In other words, as spokesman 
he realizes that *' little'' Australia, with its ^ve million 
people and its vast continent has asked too much of its 
parent to be allowed to stand alone. So he is pouring 
oil on the troubled waters by trying to devise an Anglo- 
Japanese Treaty *4n such form, modified, if that should 
be deemed proper, as will be acceptable to Britain, to 
America, to Japan, and to ourselves.'' 

But there is a third consideration in this whole ques- 
tion, and that is Japan. What is Japan going to say 
about it all? For some time Japanese have been rather 
cool in their enthusiasm over the alliance, because it 
seems to them to have outlived its usefulness and because 
Article 4 absolves Great Britain from assisting Japan 
in the event of war with America. The ''Osaka Asahi," 
one of the most influential of Japanese journals, has 
boldly advocated its abrogation. The reason for both 
British and Japanese indifference is obvious. Russia and 
Germany are out of the way. British mercantile interests 
are not at all satisfied with Japanese methods in China. 
The alliance has been disregarded twice, — when the Sino- 
Japanese Military Agreement was signed, and when the 
Twenty-one Demands were made. Furthermore, the al- 
liance never protected Japanese interests when they 


came in conflict with the interests of the colonies, nor has 
it prevented British interests from suffering in the Far 
East. As a protective alliance it has little more to do 
except to guarantee Great Britain against Japan and 
Japan against Great Britain. China is extremely an- 
tagonistic, because she deems herself to be the worst suf- 
ferer. She is the main point under consideration, yet 
she has not been consulted. Hence she has done every- 
thing in her power to arouse public opinion against its 

Nevertheless, Japan has been concerned enough for 
the renewal of the alliance to make a departure from her 
age-long attitude toward the imperial family that is 
extremely interesting if not illuminating. The recent 
visit to England of Prince Hirohito, heir to the throne, 
while meant to widen his grasp of world affairs, was cer- 
tainly intended also to arouse public feeling there in 
favor of Japan and the alliance. This was the first time 
that any Japanese prince of the blood had left Japan. 
He hobnobbed with the common people, a thing unheard 
of in Japan. But if he succeeded in winning popular 
approval for the alliance, it was doubtless worth while 
from the Japanese point of view. Otherwise the 
risk would not have been justified, for such visits are not 
without their dangers. It is interesting to recall that 
when Nicholas, Czarevitch of Russia, made a tour of 
the world upon the completion of the Siberian Railway, 
in 1891, he passed through Japan. An attack upon his 
person by a Japanese policeman nearly brought down 
the wrath of the czar upon Japan, and there was much 

While Japan was anxious to have the alliance renewed, 
she argued that England was more in need of it than she. 
America, she said, had somewhat eclipsed England. 
Japanese feel that England must now lean on Japan as 
never before. They felt this when the alliance was 


formed. Count Hayashi, in Ms ** Secret Memoirs,'* 
quotes a statement attributed to Marquis Ito, as follows : 

It is difficult to understand why England has broken her record in 
foreign politics and has decided to enter into an alliance with us; the 
mere fact that England has adopted this attitude shows that she is 
in dire need, and she therefore wants to use us in order to make us 
bear some of her burdens. 

Ito was then playing Russia against England. To-day 
England is being played against America, and the colo- 
nies are eager to utilize the feelings of Japan and Amer- 
ica for a greater Pacific fleet and for their own aug- 
mented freedom within the empire. There is much talk 
of a secret agreement existing between Japan and Great 
Britain. Even if there were, Great Britain would be 
able to live up to it, in the event of war between Japan 
and America, only at the risk of losing her colonies. 
However, that need not be taken as a serious check, for 
though Great Britain wants her colonies, she does not 
want them enough to forego all other considerations. 
On the other hand, a good deal of the pro-American 
feeling in the colonies cannot be accepted too easily, for, 
as we have seen, when America remained neutral they 
forgot blood relationship in their criticism. To-day 
there are interpretations of the alliance which would put 
Great Britain in exactly the same position toward her 
younger ** daughters" for which Australasia condemned 
America in 1914-17. But both the psychological and ma- 
terial elements in the situation point to an absolutely 
united front in Australasia for America in event of all 
the talk about war with Japan coming to a head. That is 
best illustrated by a statement in the * ' Japan Chronicle. ' ' 
The editor says: *'As we have repeatedly pointed out, 
it is unthinkable that Britain should join Japan in actual 
warfare with America. No Ministry in England which 
deliberately adopted such a policy would live for a single 
day." And the colonies, from Canada to Australia, will 
echo that sentiment, as they did boldly at the Confer- 


But it seems that with so much of the world vitally 
interested in maintaining peace in the Pacific there 
should be no difficulty at all in so doing. The colonies 
are sincere in their desire for amity with America; nor 
is it merely a matter of common language. No one who 
has taken the trouble to inquire into Far Eastern affairs 
finds the handicap of language even the remotest cause 
of misunderstanding. Actions speak louder than words, 
and none but the ignorant can now misread what is go- 
ing on in Asia. Let but those actions coincide with the 
promises made, with the spirit of the alliance and with 
the constant expression of amity and good-will, and we 
shall see the mist of war in the Pacific clear as before 
the glories of the morning sun. 

There seems, therefore, no justification for the re- 
newal of the Anglo-Japanese Alliance. It is to all in- 
tents and purposes virtually dead. Alliances on the whole 
have proved themselves treacherous safeguards. Is 
there not something which can be substituted for them? 
Cannot cooperation among nations replace intriguing 
misalliances, with their vicious secret diplomacy? One 
way has been launched, and in the succeeding chapter its 
character will be analyzed. 



IF all goes well, the open shop in international finance 
is a thing of the past ; at least so far as China goes. 
On May 11, 1920, exactly eighteen months after the sign- 
ing of the armistice, Japan formally declared her will- 
ingness to enter the new consortium for lending money to 
China, and on October 15, following, representatives of 
the British, French, Japanese, and American banking- 
groups met in New York and there signed the provi- 
sions by which they are for the next five years going 
to finance China under what is known as the Consortium 

For a full year after the signing of the armistice, 
Great Britain, France, and America had been ready to 
act in consort in the matter of future loans to China, but 
Japan insisted on excluding from the terms of the agree- 
ment international activity in Manchuria and Eastern 
Inner Mongolia. These two provinces have virtually be- 
come Japanese territory. Into these she has extended 
her railroads or added to those built by Russia, and over 
these she watched as a hen over ducklings. And be- 
cause she strenuously sought to manoeuver the Allies 
into admitting her prior rights to these regions, the con- 
summation of the Consortium Agreement was delayed 
and delayed. Japan finally yielded, at the same time 
claiming that the powers conceded her special inter- 
ests ; while they, through their chief representative, Mr. 
Thomas W. Lament, claimed that Japan waived these 
interests. We shall presently see what happened, but 



in the meantime it is obvious that both yielded and both 
won out, — and that no nation is to-day sufficiently pow- 
erful and self-contained to be able to stand apart from 
the rest of the world. The closed shop in international 
finance has been ushered in, and the union of world 
bankers is now known as the Consortium. 

In a chapter it is hardly possible to make more than 
a hasty survey of so intricate a stretch of history. 
China before the war with Japan was free from debt, but 
in order to meet the indemnity demanded by Japan she 
was compelled to raise money abroad. The scramble 
among the foreign powers to advance this money gave 
China certain advantages. Her own capitalists had money 
enough to pay off this indemnity immediately, but they 
did not trust their government and hoarded their funds. 
They knew that with the Oriental system of ^* squeeze'' 
only a fraction of it would succeed in freeing their 

Another factor conspired to introduce alien domina- 
tion over China, — ^her lack of railroads and modem in- 
dustries. She had wealth, man-power, everything that 
an isolated nation could possibly desire, but she was no 
longer an isolated nation, and she had nothing that an 
active nation among nations needed for its very exist- 
ence. Instantly, along with the loans, came concessions 
for railroad-building, and the development of China be- 
gan. So deeply was China getting embroiled in alien 
machinations that five years later, seeing that the young 
emperor himself, Huang-Hsu, was head-over-heels in love 
with Western ways, the reactionaries precipitated the 
Boxer Uprising in 1900. This only resulted in another 
overwhelming indemnity, which China has not yet suc- 
ceeded in paying off. Consequently, more loans had to 
be made, and more urgent still became the necessity for 
means of transportation and for the modernization of 

The Russo-Japanese War, which ordinarily might 


have meant a modicum of relief to China, only succeeded 
in entrenching her enemy much more securely at her 
very door, and another period of alien scrambling over 
Chinese loans set in. Cooperation among various groups 
of foreign bankers regardless of nationality was not un- 
known, for absolute competition would most likely have 
been fatal. But thoroughly thought-out getting together 
was, in view of the existing jealousy among nations, 
inconceivable. Still, to such a pass had this suicidal 
competition come that by 1909 a consortium was pro- 
posed which aimed to include Russia, Japan, Germany, 
France, England, and America. It began to work, but 
Secretary of State Knox made a proposal for the neu- 
tralization and internationalization of the Manchurian 
railway system which met with a cold no from Japan. 
Shortly afterward Japan made an agreement with Russia 
which completely frustrated Knox's proposals, and the 
thing virtually fell through. 

In 1913, President Wilson took the matter in hand. 
He refused to become a party to a scheme which, in his 
estimation, instead of working for the rehabilitation of 
China and the Open Door bound her helplessly. And 
ever since China has been getting **the crumby side'' of 
every deal. For the plan as it then existed had no pro- 
visions against the pernicious practice of marrying China 
to one power after another with concessions, without 
giving any guaranty of the preservation of her dower 
rights, — freedom in her industrial and political affairs. 

Russia then was Japan's ^* natural" enemy. Russia 
was threatening the *^very existence" of Japan. Yet 
when Knox's proposal came up, Japan was ready to 
unite with Russia in order to keep the others out of 
Manchuria. She had to use that argument to save her 
face. Bear this in mind, for we shall presently see that 
a second time Japan used this argument in order to keep 
the consummation of the consortium in abeyance. It 
was more than a plea for special interests because of 


propinquity; it was a plea that the peace and safety of 
the empire demanded it. 

Propinquity ! The pin in that word has pricked nearly 
every one who has shown any interest in China, no mat- 
ter where. Japan used propinquity as a justification of 
her annexation of Korea, breaking her word to that king- 
dom in so doing. Yet Japan contends that she never has 
broken her word. Japan is a nation true to her word, 
but, like many another nation, is loose in her wording. 
She has guaranteed the Open Door in Manchuria and 
Mongolia, — and Korea. In Korea the door is shut, and 
Japan has made entrance to the other spheres of little 
advantage. Ill-content with penetration of these regions, 
she has, by means of her railroads there, sought to divert 
the course of Chinese trade from Shanghai through 
Manchuria and Korea and Japan. In this there is noth- 
ing intrinsically wrong. But she goes farther and tries 
to exclude consortium activity in other fields in these 
two provinces. But that these are not the only slices 
of China she is after, — that they are, in fact, only step- 
ping-stones for the final domination of the great republic, 
— is attested to by certain well-known facts in Far East- 
em affairs. 

Japan and her friends assert she never has broken 
her word ; her enemies declare she is sinister and not to 
be trusted. Neither statement is correct. Her methods 
may sometimes be sinister, but no one who follows events 
in the Far East is unaware of them, and Japan has taken 
no pains to conceal them. Actions speak louder than 
words. But has Japan actually never broken her word I 
We have already referred to Korea, whose independence 
Japan has guaranteed by published treaty. During the 
war Japan carried out the requirements of the Anglo- 
Japanese Alliance, but Article V reads : 

The High Contracting Parties agree that neither of them will, with- 
out consulting the other, enter into separate arrangements with another 
Power to the prejudice of the objects described in the Preamble of 
this Agreement. 


Notwithstanding this clear stipulation, Japan imme- 
diately after capturing Kiao-chau from Germany, with- 
out consulting Great Britain as herein provided, issued 
the Twenty-one Demands on China. Of these Group V 
alone would have made a vassal state of China had she 
accepted them. Knowledge of these were kept from 
Britain completely, but when they finally leaked out, 
Japan vociferously denied them. Downing Street was not 
pleased, but there was much to be done in Europe just 
then. In 1918, Japan a second time made an arrange- 
ment with China without consulting her ally. Great Brit- 
ain. This time it was the Sino- Japanese Military Agree- 
ment. At the moment Russia withdrew from the war 
and released the German prisoners, and that was the 
excuse for imposing combined military action under Jap- 
anese officers. 

As though this were not enough, when the success of 
Germany on the western front was at its height. Count 
Terauchi, Prime Minister and arch-plotter in China, 
came out with a statement published by Mr. Gregory 
Mason of the *' Outlook '^ to the effect that it was not 
unlikely that some understanding, if not alliance, might 
be effected between Japan, Russia and Germany. And 
the rumors of such an understanding having been actu- 
ally arrived at, have since been shown to have had just 

Furthermore, since 1917, according to *^ Millard's Re- 
view'' for April, 1920, Japan has lent China about 281,- 
543,762 yen or thereabouts, privately, for political and 
industrial puposes, for reorganization, railway construc- 
tion, munitions, canal improvements, flood relief, 
wireless, forestry, war participation, and other under- 

These things must be recalled in considering the new 
consortium, as they show what led up to its final con- 
summation. These actions of Japan indicate encroach- 
ment upon China to the extent of virtually closing the 


Open Door. In this regard, the alliance has had a dual 
effect: while it makes possible for Japan to go as far 
as Britain would dare go, and even farther, on the other 
hand it tends to keep Japan in check. Hence, the state 
of mind of the Japanese on the subject of the treaty 
has been contradictory. They have regarded its renewal 
and its abrogation with about equal anxiety. From a 
moral point of view, they dare not stand alone in the 
world, being the only great autocracy remaining. Con- 
scious of their power and twitching under the restraint 
which the alliance imposes, yet needing its support, they 
are trying to make it appear that Great Britain needs it 
fully as much. 

As far as Great Britain goes, the alliance was formed 
chiefly to guarantee the interests of the empire, but also 
the Open Door and China *s integrity. That is, that 
Japanese Yen and British Sovereigns should have full 
freedom to go to China to earn a living. Let us see what 
the various treaties and understandings purport to ac- 

The Anglo- Japanese Alliance assures **The preserva- 
tion of the common interests of all Powers in China by 
insuring the independence and integrity of the Chinese 
Empire and the principle of equal opportunities for the 
commerce and industry of all nations in China. '^ 

The Root-Takahira Understanding declares: ^^The 
Policy of both Governments [Japanese and American], 
uninfluenced by any aggressive tendencies, is directed 
to the maintenance of the existing Matus quo in the re- 
gion above mentioned and to the defense of the principle 
of equal opportunity for commerce and industry in 
China.'' In other words, without an alliance, America 
has secured from Japan an understanding guaranteeing 
the integrity of China and the Open Door for her pet, 
the Dollar. Hence, except for the fact that it made no 
promises to the effect, *'My Ally, right or wrong, but 
still my ally,*' this agreement says that the American 


Dollar has as much right to earn a living in China as 
the Yen has. 

But in the meantime the Yen has been having it all his 
own way, for the Sovereign and the Franc and the Dollar 
were very busy doing things in Europe. And in good 
Oriental fashion the Yen has been breeding, and breed- 
ing rapidly. He was going to China, as we have seen, 
by the million and keeping China's interests and integ- 
rity, which all had guaranteed, in a very feverish state, 
notwithstanding alliances and agreements bom and in 

This, at bottom, is what the whole Far Eastern prob- 
lem is, — all of the governments seeking opportunities 
in China and mutually binding and barring one another 
from aggression and concessions. They have all guar- 
anteed China's ''integrity,'* but none, except America, 
has actually lived up to the agreement, and China's in- 
tegrity is rapidly ceasing to be an integer. 

Now, if that were all there was to it, debate would be 
childish, but integers, like the atom, are not easily di- 
vided without creating something new. The atom be- 
comes on electron; and the integer, when a nation, 
becomes a source of international conflict. Hence, it is 
of the utmost importance that China remain an integer. 
The Anglo-Japanese Alliance has failed to maintain 
China's integrity. The Root-Takahira Agreement seemed 
to cover the ground well enough, but that it was not suf- 
ficient is proved by the later necessity on the part of Mr. 
Lansing to supplement it by his so-called ''understand- 
ing" with Viscount Ishii. However, that the Ishii-Lan- 
sing Agreement is loose and inadequate was obvious on 
the face of it and it was shown to be absurd when the 
Consortium Agreement was being negotiated. It seems 
that Secretary-of-State Lansing, realizing that his 
** agreement" with Ishii was being translated into a Mon- 
roe Doctrine of Asia, as it was never intended to be, 
fostered the new Consortium Agreement in order to 


throw a ring round the Ishii-Lansing Agreement and de- 
fine its limitations. With the very first approach the pro- 
moters of the consortium made to Japan, Japan, as we 
have seen, began eliminating from its scope everything 
that propinquity permitted, threatening not only the con- 
sortium but the various previous agreements. I state 
these facts not to condemn Japan, but to delve into the 
psychology of the powers who, at the Peace Conference 
at Versailles, came to the conclusion that the only solu- 
tion for the situation in the Far East was a cooperative 
scheme. They must be borne in mind in order to under- 
stand why Japan withheld from concurring, and finally 


America was viewing all this with no little apprehen- 
sion. Matters in the Far East were extremely precarious 
at the time she entered the war. It was in order to reas- 
sure Japan and merely as a restatement of issues that the 
Ishii-Lansing Agreement was made. Japan's propin- 
quity was recognized. But it was also recognized that 
the Open Door was being walled up. Hence, the Ameri- 
can Government, which had withdrawn from the Sex- 
tuple Consortium, suggested that a new consortium 
agreement be made in which the four leading powers 
take equal part. These powers had been drawn closer 
together during the war, and that concord was to be taken 
advantage of before it had a chance to dissipate. 

At the time that I wrote the article on ^* Lending 
Money to China'' for the ** World's Work, " August, 1920, 
the whole consortium scheme was shrouded in mystery. 
Since then the correspondence that took place between 
the powers has in part been published. The way it de- 
veloped is worthy of being outlined. 

The American bankers had been asked by the Govern- 
ment to enter the proposed consortium. They were not 
over-enthusiastic about it, for at the time they felt they 


had enough demand at home and in Europe for such 
funds as they could command. They realized that at 
that time (July, 1918) they would be expected to carry, 
with Japan, both England and France, but they agreed 
that *^such carrying should not diminish the vitality of 
the membership in the four-Power group/' But they 
did stipulate that ' * One of the conditions of membership 
in such a four-Power group should be that there should 
be a relinquishment by the members of the group either 
to China or to the group of any options to make loans 
which they now hold, and all loans to China by any of 
them should be considered as a four-Power group busi- 

Lansing replied to the bankers, accepting their stipu- 
lations, obviously his main intention in working for the 
consortium being, as I have said, to encircle the problem 
with a view to defining its limitations so as to make it 
impossible for Japan to interpret his agreement with 
Ishii too broadly. 

These communications were transmitted to the Brit- 
ish Foreign Office, prompting a reply from Mr. Balfour 
on August 14, 1918, wherein he inquired whether it was 
the intention of the American Government to enter the 
$100,000,000 loan to China for currency reform which 
was then under consideration and toward which Japan 
had already made two separate advancements; and 
whether it was the intention of the United States to 
confine activities to administrative loans or to include 
industrial and railway enterprises as well. Lord Read- 
ing made inquiry of the State Department and deter- 
mined that both types of loans had been considered. 

It is obvious from these communications that both 
Japan and Great Britain wished to retain their special 
interests in regard to the existing railway and industrial 
loans, and balked at their being pooled with those of the 
consortium. But England was ready enough from the 
beginning to forego these. The United States held 


**that industrial as well as administrative loans should 
be included in the new arrangement, for the reason that, 
in practice, the line of demarcation between those va- 
rious classes of loans often is not easy to draw/' 

Everything went along smoothly until Japan was con- 
sulted, and then it was found that while she was willing 
enough to enter into a consortium for the whole of China, 
she was emphatically unwilling to have Manchuria and 
Mongolia included. From the very beginning, the Ameri- 
can, British, and French banking-groups and govern- 
ments most decidedly refused to accede to Japan's 
demands in this matter, declaring that such a rendering 
would simply open up the sores of spheres-of-interests 
and concession-hunting, and completely nullify the pur- 
poses and intentions of the consortium. The Japanese 
argument is amusing. When Japan first encroached upon 
Manchuria and Mongolia, it was because of danger to her 
safety from Czarist Russia. Now she was face to face 
with Bolshevist Russia, and she trembled for her safety 
in these terms : 

Furthermore, the recent development of the Russian situation, exer- 
cising as it does an unwholesome influence upon the Far East, is a 
matter of grave concern to Japan; in fact, the conditions in Siberia, 
which have been developing with such alarming precipitancy of late, 
are by no means far from giving rise to a most serious situation, which 
may at any time take a turn threatening the safety of Japan and the 
peace of the Far East, and ultimately place the entire Eastern Asia 
at the mercy of the dangerous activities of extremist forces. Having 
regard to these signals of the imminent character of the situation, the 
Japanese Government all the more keenly feel the need of adopting 
measures calculated to avert any such danger in the interest of the 
Far East as well as of Japan. Now, South Manchuria and Mongolia 
are the gate by which this direful influence may effect its penetration 
into Japan and the Far East to the instant menace of their security. 
The Japanese Government are convinced that, having regard to the 
vital interests which Japan, as distinct from the other Powers, has in 
the regions of South Manchuria and Mongolia, the British Government 
will appreciate the circumstances which compelled the Japanese Gov- 
ernment to make a special and legitimate reservation indispensable to 
the existence of the state and its people. . . . 

The utter fallacy of this is obvious. The consortium was 
not a miracle-worker. Its efforts would necessarily ex- 


tend over a series of years; its principals were as op- 
posed to Bolshevism as Japan was. But there was Japan, 
— bureaucratic, imperialistic Japan, — shedding tears 
over the prospect of what might happen to her people 
from Bolshevism if the consortium were permitted to 
take a share in the development of Manchuria and Mon- 
golia, — to which she has no right other than that of her 

No pressure such as could be said to be in the nature of 
an ultimatum to join the consortium was exerted, of 
course, but it was obvious that unless Japan withdrew 
her objections the consortium would not materialize. 
Japan made an effort to get the other powers to make 
some written statement or accept her formula securing 
to her these special rights ; but the others were adamant. 
Japan specified just what she feared, — the construction 
of other railroads. 

The United States replied: 

The American Government cannot but acknowledge, however, its 
grave disappointment that the formula proffered by the Japanese Gov- 
ernment is in terms so exceedingly ambiguous and in character so 
irrevocable that it might be held to indicate a continued desire on the 
part of the Japanese Government to exclude the American, British, 
and French banking groups from participation in the development, 
for the benefit of China, of important parts of that republic, a con- 
struction which could not be reconciled with the principle of the inde- 
pendence and territorial integrity of China. 

It is interesting to note that in all these communica- 
tions, the Japanese Government is constantly referring 
to its own special interests and dangers, whereas the 
others repeat and repeat their concern for the integrity 
of China. It may be, after all, that the Japanese Gov- 
ernment is the more honest, though America's stand is 

I have dwelt sufficiently, I believe, with the emana- 
tions from behind departmental doors. The human ele- 
ments are much more interesting. Suffice it to say that 
Japan held out for a long, long time, and things seemed 
hopeless. At last, after an understanding with all those 


concerned outside Japan, Mr. Thomas W. Lamont went 
to the Far East as spokesman for the other powers, to 
carry on negotiations with Japan. 

Unfortunately — whether by design or not I have no 
way of telling — an American business mission also went 
to Japan at that time, upon the invitation of Baron Shi- 
busawa, popularly known as the ^* Schwab of Japan." 
Everybody got these two parties mixed, but I have since 
been very earnestly assured that Mr. Frank A. Vander- 
lip, who headed the business mission, had nothing what- 
ever to do with Mr. Lamont ^s mission. Be that as it may, 
it was certain even from the twin-reports that while the 
business mission was being lavishly entertained, Mr. 
Lamont was seeing all that he wanted to see, and saying 
all that he wanted to say. The mission was discussing 
with Junnosuke Inouye, Governor of the Bank of Japan, 
and Baron Shibusawa, and others such questions as Jap- 
anese immigration, the Shantung situation, the invasion 
of Siberia, and the submarine cables. All that the world 
at large got as to the decisions arrived at was the fact 
that views were exchanged in a friendly manner, and 
some delightfully amusing articles from the pen of Julian 
Street who was the scribe of the occasion. 

In the meantime, Lamont, who seems to be a man for 
whom a dinner has little attraction, left the impression 
on the Japanese Government that Japan and Japan 
alone would lose by holding back. When he left Japan, 
to go to China, the Japanese Government was still de- 
termined on securing from the powers exemption for 
Manchuria and Mongolia. 

But a series of subsequent events helped Japan to 
make up her mind. First and foremost among these 
was the financial slump in Japan, which was seriously 
embarrassing. This was followed by financial strin- 
gency in Manchuria and the eagerness of the directors 
of the South Manchurian Railway, — ^who are at present 
involved in a far-reaching scandal for a loan which could 


not be floated in Japan and which was sought in America. 
Third, as either cause or effect, was the situation in 
China. China, on account of Japan's courtship of the 
Peking militarists and the rape of Shantung, had insti- 
tuted a boycott of Japanese goods the bitterness and 
force of which Japan had learned to respect. These 
circumstances alone might have been enough to drive 
a nation to desperation ; but a sensitive nation like Japan 
would suffer these things a thousand times over in 
silence. One thing Japan cannot stand, and that is the 
distrust of the world. 

And the Lamont party found from the moment it left 
Nagasaki for China until the moment it set foot again in 
Shimonoseki on its return that there was not a white 
man nor a yellow man who had a good word to say for 
Japan. Japan was an isolated country socially, — iso- 
lated a thousand times more definitely than she is geo- 
graphically. And the good sense of the Japanese has 
brought them to a realization that that does not pay. 
Japan wants the good-will of the world, and she wants 
it sorely. 

When Mr. Lamont arrived in China he did not find the 
same atmosphere he had found in Japan. The fact that 
he had been in Japan first added to the suspicions of 
the Chinese. They had many things to ponder over and 
be suspicious about. China remembered the processes of 
westernization which she had had to answer with the 
Boxer Uprising in 1900. But Chiaa has never forgotten 
the return of the Boxer indemnity by the United States. 

In Peking some students threatened to stone the hotel 
at which Mr. Lamont stopped. A few came as special 
representatives of the student body, according to one 
report, and quizzed Mr. Lamont for two hours. They 
left apparently satisfied. Their strong plea was that no 
loans be made to the Government until peace between 
North and South was established. 


The press of China and the people of China were di- 
vided. Some of the Japanese, who owned papers in 
China, sought to alienate the sympathy of the Chinese 
for America; some tried other tactics. The Chinese 
militarists in Peking who had tasted of the flesh-pots of 
Nippon were not over-anxious to put themselves on a 
diet. Chinese patriots saw in the new consortium a rope 
of a diiferent fiber. The consortium party found itself 
double-crossed by obvious agencies. 

In a measure this was justified all the way round, for 
the undertaking was shrouded in secrecy on many points 
which could not but discredit it in the eyes of many. 
Perhaps this was unavoidable, but it was none the less 
natural that China should be wary. In her own sort 
of way, China was taking inventory. The last loan of 
$125,000,000 only arrived in China as $104,851,840 after 
deductions for underwriting had been paid. And before 
the sum can be paid off, it will have cost China $235,- 
768,105 by way of interest and commissions. And China 
knows that only a small part of this tremendous sum had 
gone into actual constructive work. 

Yet China needs assistance. Railroads are the world ^s 
salvation and China's crying need. But for lack of rail- 
roads, China would to-day be the most powerful nation on 
earth, financially and politically. And the fact that her 
railroads are short while those of other countries are 
long makes of her a prey to those tentacles of trade 
against which she is helpless. China has to-day only 
about 6,500 miles of railroad: she needs 100,000. She 
who built the rambling wall has still only foot-paths. 
She needs 100,000 miles of highway. Her canals, which 
a thousand years ago kept the country open to trade and 
partially free from famine, have fallen into disrepair. 
She needs telegraphs, telephones, wireless. If only the 
money she borrowed went into such enterprises China 
would repay the world a thousandfold. 


It was therefore natural that China should be sus- 
picious, and likewise natural that she should be willing 
to be convinced. What young China wanted most was 
definite and outspoken assurance that her integrity as a 
nation would not be jeopardized. 

The leading Chinese newspapers expressed their grati- 
tude at repeated assurances of due respect being given 
to Chinese public opinion and promises to refrain from 
interfering in her internal affairs. But others, like the 
China '* Times,'' said: 

The British plan to control our railroads jointly, and the American 
plan is to monopolize our industries jointly, while the Japanese plan 
to monopolize all our railroads, mines, forestry, and industries. Any 
one of these plans will put our destiny in their hands. 

It also declared: *^ Although it has been reported that 
Japan will make certain compromises, it is hard to say 
to what extent these will go. ' ' 

To this Mr. Lament said: **It now remains for the 
Japanese Government formally to confirm this desire 
[of the bankers to join]. If they fail to do so and if 
Japan remains outside the consortium, I should think 
that Japan might prove to be the chief loser.'' He next 
made it clear to China that she would first have to es- 
tablish peace if she is to be helped. Aside from the 
reorganization of the currency, the consortium is going 
to see to it that a sufficiently safe audit system is estab- 
lished, so that it will be sure that all loan expenditures 
go as far as they should into the properties themselves. 
Further, the Chinese Government, in order to save some 
cash, refused to pay on certain bearer bonds which had 
come back rather curiously. These were formerly Ger- 
man property bonds on the Hukuan Railway loan which 
Germany had evidently sold off before the war. They 
had now come back by way of England and America. 
The Chinese Government wanted proof of transference 
on bearer bonds. Mr. Lamont pointed out to them that 
this action would totally discredit them and that the 
ability to secure further investments would be very slim 


unless these were redeemed. Mr. Lamont then returned 
to Japan. 

Then it became known that the Japanese Government 
had finally given its consent. In Japan, opinion ranged 
from imperialistic chauvinism to liberal recognition of 
the consortium as a way out of the mess. On May 11 
things came to a head. Mr. Lamont stated on his return 
to America that: 

The fact that Japan has come into the Consortium for China without 
reservations should be made clear. The agreement that the Japanese 
banking group with the approval of its government, signed at Tokio, 
leaves nothing to be desired on this point; but in Japan, while there 
was perfect readiness by all authorities to announce that an under- 
standing had been reached, there seems to be some reluctance to make 
public any statement that the Japanese Government had withdrawn 
its reservations as to Manchuria and Mongolia. It is only fair, there- 
fore, that every member of the American banking group and American 
investors generally should clearly understand the facts. 

Still Viscount Uchida, the Foreign Minister, insisted : 

While other powers can afford to regard the new Consortium solely 
as a business matter Japan is otherwise situated, since her vita,l na- 
tional interests, such as national defense and economic existence, are 
apt to be involved in enterprises near her border. When the three 
other governments expressly declared to Japan that they not only did 
not contemplate acts inimical to her vital interests but were ready to 
give assurance sufficiently safeguarding them, the Japanese Government 
decided to confirm the Paris agreement. 

What Japan expected the powers to say other than just 
that is a matter for diplomats to play with. To the 
common person this statement is absolutely meaningless. 
It is a generalization which leaves the door open for 
Japan to object to loans for any work which she feels 
will jeopardize her national life or vitally affect her ^ ^ sov- 
ereignty.'' Any railroad scheme which might become 
a competitor by diverting freight from Manchurian lines 
owned by Japan would be a menace to Japan's sover- 

For instance, it seems understood that among these 
vital interests are certain loans to Chinese capitalists 
and corporations. And doubtless Japan would right 



now mucli rather have the millions which she has sunk in 
China in her own hands. But if these loans are recog- 
nized, what guarantee is there that even under the nose 
of the consortium further ** loans'* will not be made? 

Is it likely that Japan will relinquish her hold on the 
South Manchurian Railroad, which in her opinion is of 
strategic importance? If the consortium is to have no 
say in such vested interests, obtained before its conclu- 
sion, how is it going to secure itself against these very 
interests being used as a means of breaking up the unity 
of the cooperative enterprises? How is so sweeping a 
clause going to be kept within bonds? If Japan is left 
in full control of the Manchurian railways, if the con- 
sortium has not really dissolved the Sino-Japanese Mil- 
itary Agreement, if Japan is to control the German-built 
railways in Shantung, how is the consortium going to 
better things in the Far East? There is altogether too 
much silence on many points in the consortium project 
for the world to have any real assurance. Secret di- 
plomacy having been discredited, it seems that bankers 
have themselves broken into diplomacy. Of course, in- 
dividuals have a perfect right in this modern world to 
discuss whatever matters they like, — and governments, 
too, for that matter, — ^but it should seem that the people 
as a whole whose money, whose happiness, and whose 
lives are involved have a right to know to the last detail 
what has been traded off in the making of the consortium. 
China evidently was placated by Lamont with full ex- 
planations of what the consortium intended. In brief it 
was this: 

The agreement calls for the pooling of all such in- 
terests of the several powers in China as had not been 
already developed separately, in a '^full and free part- 
nership. '* In this way it is hoped that future spheres 
of influence will be eliminated, jealousies between the 
powers be done away with, and Chinese grafters be pre- 


vented from pitting one power against the other for their 
own selfish ends. Chinese complain that now they will 
not be able to secure loans on a competitive basis and that 
therefore they are being more surely strangled. That 
is partially true. But it is also true that corrupt Chinese 
officials have been keeping China and the world in turmoil 
for their own greedy ends. Both of these things must 
be stopped if peace is to obtain in the Pacific. 

The guarantees given to China were to the effect that 
in no circumstances would the consortium undertake 
such private enterprises as banking, manufacturing, or 
commerce, but would devote itself entirely to the con- 
struction of railroads, the laying of highways, and the 
reorganization of China's currency. The consortium was 
to make loans to the central or provincial government 
only, but as a condition of their advancement, peace be- 
tween the North and South was urged. The consortium 
was not to interfere in the domestic affairs of China. 
Loans were to be made only with the approval of the 
governments behind the bankers. Nor, of course, can 
you compel any one to borrow money from you, wherein 
China has the whip hand. Herein lies a very important 

China has plenty of money. Its bankers hoard enough 
to clean up the country's debts in no time. But they 
cannot trust their governmental officials; they never 
have trusted them. But just lately these bankers have 
been awakening to the wisdom of foreign financial 
methods, and are adopting them. This may be the first 
good result of the consortium. 

On the other hand, should the terms of the Anglo- 
Japanese Alliance displease China, she may refuse to 
recognize the consortium. What then? China has set 
out to strangle the alliance, which was formed without 
consulting her. But we speculated enough in the last 
chapter to show that should the consortium really work, 


the Anglo-Japanese Alliance would cease to have any 
functional value. 

But there are dangers in the consortium, — and even 
in the cooperative development of China. If Japan 
joins whole-heartedly in the consortium, she may be the 
greatest gainer. For here are all the powers mutually 
developing China, laying railways, and opening up the 
resources of the country. Who, more than Japan, is 
going to tap China's unlimited raw supplies, — the coal 
in Shansi, for instance, which is enough to supply the 
world's needs for a thousand years? And should Japan 
in the end still seek the hegemony of the East, she could 
utilize these railroads and resources for her own ag- 
grandizement. Who could stop her? Have not the sep- 
arate governments given Japan their assurance that she 
**need have no reason to apprehend that the consortium 
would direct any activities affecting the security of the 
economic life and national defense of Japan?" 

There is, it is said, only little left to be told, but that 
little may be more than enough. But if China is really 
helped to strength and independence, then the greatest 
menace that has ever faced mankind will have been 
averted, and China, a country with the oldest culture in 
the world, will have been won back to civilization. Not 
in emasculated alliances but in a healthy cooperation will 
the peace of the Pacific be preserved. And the consor- 
tium, as things are in the world, is the first example of 
international good sense known to modern history. 

Now, the Consortium Agreement is not an idealistic 
scheme. The powers recognize that the future peace of 
the world depends on how they manage their affairs in 
China. If the consortium throws all secrecy to the winds 
and comes out openly and at all times for the principles 
on which it was formed and for which the several govern- 
ments have guaranteed their protection to these banking- 
groups, what use is there going to be for the alliance? 
Perhaps, to paraphrase President Wilson's statement 


when he went across the Atlantic with his challenge for 
the freedom of the seas, Great Britain and Japan may 
now have to say to the world: ** Gentlemen, the joke 's 
on us. Why, if the consortium works in China there is 
going to be no need of an alliance P' 



WE have taken a long journey together. The main 
routes along the Pacific which are the highways 
of our past and future intercourse have been inspected. 
But the great Pacific basin is not yet everywhere safe 
for navigation. There is, I understand, a scientific ex- 
pedition now at work thoroughly charting every inch 
of that wonderful watery waste. There is, I know, a 
scientific body under the directorship of Professor 
Gregory of Yale for the thorough research of ethnologi- 
cal materials among the races of the Pacific. But aside 
from the efforts of individuals, politically and socially 
and hygienically, there is nothing going on to bind the 
peoples together. I had nearly forgotten that a year 
ago we did send out a political expedition to the Far 
East, a Congressional expedition which spent four days 
in Japan and, I daresay, a week in China. Otherwise, 
we are still at the mercy of individual scribes, who, like 
myself, have their own points of view, their own motives, 
and their own reactions. 

For years I have read religiously every interview re- 
ported in the press, with spokesmen for one country or 
the other on the Pacific. The mass of clippings I have 
accumulated I have time and again sifted carefully for 
some word or sign that might indicate the real problem. 
But I have failed to find any. I cannot lay the responsi- 
bility on the press. It rests with the individuals who 
have been asked to give their opinions. But as far as 
substance goes, they may all best be illustrated by a sen- 
tence from the speech of Viscount Uchida, the Minister 
for Foreign Affairs, delivered before the Imperial Diet. 
I have the speech as it came to me from the East and 



West News Bureau. The sentence I have selected, for 
the translation of which the Viscount is of course not re- 
sponsible, is this : ^ ^ It is true that this friendly relation- 
ship is not without an occasional mingling of incidents ; 
that is almost inevitable in any international relations. ' ' 
All speeches such as these are remarkably free from 
definition. Speech after speech is reported, all plead 
for understanding, but in none of these is any basis for 
understanding given. Sentiment will not dissolve inter- 
national suspicion. 

Right here I should like to make it clear that Japan is 
not the only nation that is being maligned, as some would 
have us believe. Exclusion is practised not against 
Japan alone, though in other cases it is practised in a dif- 
ferent manner. The Honolulu Chamber of Commerce 
excludes white men from entering its sacred sanctums 
nearly as much. Unless you are approved by the cham- 
ber, you will find it very difficult to take up a profession. 
As I look back over my years of wandering in the farther- 
most reaches of the Pacific I recall incident after incident 
that is indicative of what is toward. 

"Wherever competition is rife, the competitors lay 
themselves out to be courteous and friendly, but in the 
long runs that dissect the waters of that ocean, so se- 
cure have many of the steamship companies felt that 
decency has frequently been forgotten. The careless- 
ness of the rights of the unhappy voyager who merely 
pays for a privilege on the Union Steamship Company 
is not conducive to international good feeling. The lack 
of common courtesy on the part of many of the employees 
of this company is proverbial even among the Britons in 
Australasia. Peoples in the goings and comings gain 
their impressions of countries very often from such 
samples as are forced upon their attention en route. 
And over the bars lq the distant lands compatriots give 
vent to recriminations of the compatriots of other na- 
tions in a manner not flattering to either. 


One of the most unfortunate features of the whole 
problem of the Pacific is that only too often the men who 
are accountable for the most serious sources of dislike 
are men who at home would be kept in check by a healthy 
fear of social ostracism. But once a white man enters 
trade in an Oriental port as a clerk or salesman, he 
seems to consider it his bounden duty as a representative 
of his country to run down the natives as viciously as 
he dare. I have seen white men who at home would hold 
their tongues lest they offend some decent woman's ears 
with their vile language assume an air of superiority 
toward the men amongst whom they are living that is 
certainly not conducive to international amity. I have 
heard them express a longing for a chance some day to 
come back and *'lick'' these natives that, considering the 
human sufferings involved, is at the very depths of 

Nor is this feeling directed against Orientals only. I 
have heard serious statements from Americans against 
the British that are not only unjustifiable but astounding. 
And the British themselves maintain a lordly superiority 
to all others. The boast that ^^the sun never sets on 
English soil" is illustrative of a certain provincialism 
among Britons that is not healthful from an international 
outlook. Britons generally take such routes hither and 
thither as leave them always within the British Empire, 
and the result is a dull point of view with regard to for- 
eign lands. To be regarded as a foreigner is a source of 
great irritation to a Briton; he cannot stand this **slur" 
when passing through America. Even within the British 
dominions themselves there are childish prides that make 
understanding impossible, — the New Zealander being 
against the Australian and both against everybody else. 

These antagonisms more than all else are at the bottom 
of the confusion obtaining to-day in the Pacific. Their 
utter folly and futility are simply suicidal. Were it not 
better that we study carefully the social and political 


ideals of every race on the Pacific and see in what man- 
ner such changes may be effected as will preclude con- 
flict? Is not America's preeminence in the Pacific to- 
day due to her return of the Boxer indemnity, to her 
attempt at winning the sympathy of the Filipino, to her 
friendship for China! Cannot the sympathy and the 
emulation of races supplant their enmity and jealousy? 
In the manner in which the various peoples of the Pacific 
turn to their problems lies permanent peace. There is 
already a considerable veering round of national con- 
ceptions toward the recognition of our common welfare 
being dependent on mutual development, as in the case 
of the consortium. 

One gets tired of the perennial expressions of felicita- 
tion of the * headers '* of states, of the sentimental bal- 
derdash which emanates from international ^ ' functions ' ^ 
of the world's '^best" people, who don one another's 
garments and pledge one another eternal affection, of 
those who assure us that the fact that one nation has 
placed with ^^us" an order for the latest type of elec- 
trically driven super-dreadnaught indicates the love and 
fellowship obtaining between us. Only four years ago, 
Viscount Bryce admitted that ^^Most of us, however, 
know so little about the island groups of the Pacific, ex- 
cept from missionary narratives and from romances, 
like those of Robert Louis Stevenson, that the recent ac- 
tion of the white peoples in the islands is practically a 
new subject, and one which well deserves to be dealt 
with.'' And despite all those speeches, despite all the in- 
ternational societies — that exist, it seems, only to en- 
tertain celebrities, not to uncover misunderstandings 
that they may truly be corrected — real irritation comes 
from the average man's notions, and to him should at- 
tention be directed. 

Those vast spaces to which Viscount Bryce referred, 
once regarded with such awe, are now criss-crossed with 
a veritable network of steamers. They have made short 


shrift of the distances between the East and the West. 
We may invite one another across for week-ends, but 
not necessarily for life, and the impressions each brings 
away with him will go toward making up the sum total 
of what is going to be the thought of the Pacific. Are 
we to navalize the Pacific or to civilize it? Are we to 
convert every projecting rock into a menace, or are we 
to be honest navigators exposing every treacherous 
island for the safety of all races? Are we to scramble 
for interests in the Pacific, or are we to help races there 
to rise to strength and independence, so that each will be 
a healthy buffer against aggression? The ^' Valor of 
Ignorance '' is not to be met with the blindness of force. 

I sought to obtain a bit of information once from a dis- 
penser of ^'understanding'' located in New York, but 
he tried to lead me off the scent. It was not, he feared, 
to his country's credit that such and such facts be known. 
He was very sensitive, and gave me no assistance. This 
covering up of our weaknesses before the eyes of our 
neighbors is certain to lead to disaster. This putting 
our best foot forward, only to have the other ready for 
a nasty kick, is not going to bring about amity. If 
there is an ideal worthy of emulation in any race in the 
Pacific, we ought to know and honor it. If there is a 
sore which needs scientific political treatment, let us 
attend to it. Our problems are well defined, if we will 
but look for them; our obligations are clear, if we will 
but undertake them courageously. 

We are not going to solve our problems as we did with 
the coming of Japan into the range of the world, — by 
adulation. To-day we are suffering from the effects 
of having made the Japanese feel that they are perfect 
and to be adored. The problem is one of unadulterated 
education, of education in the simple arts of self-support 
among the primitive people, and self-government among 
the more advanced. 

But if our efforts are to be fruitful we must avoid 


abstract education which leads to hair-splitting. It is 
to be education in the fundamentals, — education in the 
use of hands and brain for self-support and mutual hap- 
piness founded on justice. It is to be education of our- 
selves as well as of those we wish to elevate. 

But the problem is even deeper than that. Merely 
elevating other races will not preclude conflict. Ger- 
many was well educated and on a level with, if not in 
many ways superior to the nations roundabout her. 
Her very development created friction. And the talk of 
Japan as a menace is largely due to the fact that Japan 
has grown out of the lowly state in which her exclusion- 
ists had placed her for two hundred and fifty years. 
As yet China is no ^'menace,'' for China has still her 
teeming hordes who curtail one another's usefulness. 

Nor, as I have ^aid in the chapter on Australasia, will 
the problem of our relationship with the people of the 
Pacific be solved by the effort of labor to keep up its own 
high standards by the exclusion of those of lower stand- 

Nor will the problem be solved by our assuming 
more and more protectorates over simple nations unused 
to the tricks of diplomacy. 

Our problem will be solved only by working assidu- 
ously for international cooperation. Our problem will 
clear away when all nations establish departments open 
to civil-service appointments of people who vn.ll enter 
the field of education and uplift work without other 
compensation possible than that of an honest salary. 
There should be a Department of Education for the Pa- 
cific in which the people of the United States do out of 
their own funds what we did in China out of the moneys 
paid in the Boxer indemnity. This department would 
study the races of the Pacific with a view to finding what 
are the special requirements of each particular people 
and how they can be supplied. There should be a Bureau 
of Social Hygiene and Sanitary Engineering recruited 


from the American student body with luring pay, draw- 
ing thousands of young physicians and engineers out into 
the various Pacific islands to study the questions of the 
eradication of disease and the care of body and mind. 
There should be a Bureau of Civics and International 
Law carrying to the peoples of the Pacific whose sim- 
plicity lays them open to the chicanery of political para- 
sites the simple truths of human relationships as we 
understand them. So the entire fabric of civilization 
might be spread over the waters of the Pacific. But to 
guard against the possibility of some sword piercing it 
and rending it must come the voice of civilization calling 
shame upon the present practices of any nation now 
operating in the Pacific in other than pacific ways. 

All this must be done not by America alone, but by all 
the people now in a position to cooperate. Just as 
Japan codified her laws and changed them in conformity 
with those of the West, so as to regain full rights over 
foreigners in her own territory, so must all the nations 
reorganize their laws in conformity with the best inter- 
ests of all. There must be judges in all lands who know 
the laws of other lands as well as their own and an at- 
tempt be made to bring them all in greater conformity 
to a universal standard of justice, of right and wrong. 
There must be educators set to work studying the edu- 
cational systems of nations on the Pacific so as to bring 
the methods more and more in line with one another. 
There must be departments of health advising one an- 
other how so to remedy conditions as to eliminate the 
danger of spread of plague. It is not enough that we 
have an excellent department of health vigilant in the 
exclusion of plague ; our department of health should co- 
operate with that of Japan and of Australasia, and of 
every island in the Pacific. In other words, we must 
realize that the problems of every group anywhere in 
the world affect for good or ill our own welfare. 

Our problem in the Pacific is therefore ten times more 


complicated than that which faced the powers in Morocco, 
Africa and Persia. While the diversity of nations was 
great in Europe, in the Pacific it is greater. But while 
the relationship in the Balkans was in some cases close, 
not only in sheer propinquity, but in development, in 
the Pacific not only is the blood running in the veins of 
the races in many cases extremely alien, one to the other, 
but the distances separating them in space and in devel- 
opment make cooperation and getting together difficult. 
This makes it easier for selfish nations to place them- 
selves as wedges between them. The scramble after 
mandates in the Pacific indicates the recognition of their 

But in inverse ratio, — in so far as the races of the 
Pacific have none of the irritating intimacy which ob- 
tained in Europe, the problem is clearer. The repeti- 
tion of the intrigues which Germany, through her daugh- 
ter on the Russian throne, could carry out, is here im- 
possible. Only once in my knowledge has royal inter- 
marriage been attempted and it proved a failure. The 
Japanese changed their law against the marriage of their 
royalty with royalty of another race in favor of Korea 
— and to forestall a Japanese-Korean union we are told, 
the Ex-Emperor of Korea committed suicide. Insurrec- 
tion followed. The marriage has since taken place, but 
Korea is no longer an independent empire. 

The more pronounced differences of race should per- 
haps be recognized, but recognized with sympathy. 
Each race then presents its own problems. But over all 
must come recognition of the commonalty of man. This 
does not mean international fawning and flattering of 
one another. Eacial equality must be admitted, but not 
as Japan sponsored it, — ^with the existence of her own 
castes and classes, and the oppression of Korea, — ^but in 
full recognition of the latent possibilities in all peoples. 
Japan regards herself as infinitely superior to all man- 


kind. So do we. But that must be replaced by realiza- 
tion of the historical worthiness of Orientals as well as 

We have in the Pacific, as has been seen, a great num- 
ber of races in varying degrees of development. Most of 
them know little of one another and hate one another 
less. They have never been close enough for serious 
conflict, and they need never be. We can instil into 
them through educational channels a regard for one an- 
other which all the love-potions in the world could not 
pour into the races of Europe, inured to war and slaugh- 
ter and religious bigotry. 

There is still one great obstacle in the way of a peace- 
ful solution of the problems of the Pacific, an obstacle 
that can be overcome only by a rapid evolution or revolu- 
tion. Even as the forces for the greater liberation of 
the people are at work in China, now bound no more 
by her own swaddling-clothes of imperialism, so must 
they be encouraged in Japan, whose bureaucracy is 
to-day entangling not only her own liberal elements, but 
a greater number of nations in the Pacific. Jingoists 
speak of the yellow peril as though it were a single thing, 
elemental and simply conquerable. But it is not very 
different from the peril of imperialism everywhere. 

In the working out of the problems of the Pacific, 
Japan is the farthest from our ken. Our relations with 
Australia and New Zealand and with Canada — apart 
from Great Britain — are already more or less intimate. 
Just as Japan is beginning to realize that she must make 
China her friend, so must we four Western nations on 
the Pacific realize the fullness of the possibilities in co- 
operation. There should be an exchange of opinion, a 
greater supply of news from one to the other, — news of 
personal, educational and geographical value, in the na- 
ture of local news. With these four countries as a nu- 
cleus and the same thing going on between China and 


Japan, the problem of the East understanding the West 
will be simplij&ed. 

But we must show that we appreciate the fine points 
in the Oriental civilizations, while the Orient will have to 
remove from its conscience the hatred of the foreigner. 
The millennium? Not in the least. Just the beginning 
of our groping toward human commonalty. 


Mr. Sydney Greenbie, 
New York, U.S.A. 

Dbar Sir : 

Your letter of 26th March has been forwardecl to me from Samoa. I re- 
linquished the Administration when Civil Government was established there. 

The Chief whose funeral you saw was TAMASESE, a son of the late King 
Tamasese. . . . MATAAFA, the son of King Mataafa, died in the influenza epi- 
demic in 1918 and I dug his grave with my own hands, everyone working hard 
to avoid a pestilence. 

The Chief TAMASESE was made much of by the Germans when they were 
in Samoa, was taken a trip to Berlin but was not allowed to visit England. He 
remained pro-German to the end ; one of the few Samoans who did so. 

On his death-bed Tamasese remembered a promise made to his deceased 
father (he said the spirit of his father appeared to him and reproached him) 
that he would bring the late King's bones to the family burying place and he 
could not die in peace until this was done. I was approached in the matter 
and at once sent a Government launch with the family party to get the bones, 
and they were put in a coflln and buried in the family ground. This done. 
Tamasese passed away in peace in a very short time. 

You are probably aware that when Tamasese's body was lying in state the 
hair was sprinkled with gold dust and a German crown made of white flowers 
was placed on the coflBn. The widow had a Samoan house built alongside the 
tomb on the Mulinuu peninsula and lived in it for some months in spite of the 
stench which came from the tomb. She died in the influenza epidemic in 1918, 
having in the meantime named one of the native Samoan judges. 

I am sorry the Information I can give you is so meagre, but I have not my 
records here as yet. 

Yours faithfully, 

ROBBRT Logan, 

Devon, England, 
13th July, 1921. 


DsAR Mr. GRiaaNBiB: 

Your letter of Feb. 20th was forwarded on to me here, and reached me 


I regret that I cannot tell you definitely as to the celebration held in 
Samoa in 1915, in honor of the late "King" ; I returned to Samoa in 1917 after 
an absence of some years, and heard nothing of It. I think, however, that the 
celebration must have been for Mataafa, as the natives told you that the de- 
ceased Chief had been the favorite of Mataafa. 

Stevenson rather despised Laupepa who although an amiable man and the 
rightful King, was of feeble character, and when broken up by the suffering and 
indignity of his deportation by the Germans, weakly ceded the throne to Mataafa 
out of gratitude for the stand taken by the latter on his behalf during the years 
of his exile. 

My own conviction is that, had R. L. S. lived a few years longer, he would 
have realized that his championship of Mataafa was a mistake, and precipitated 
the very event he wished to avoid — the German rule in Samoa. 
Very sincerely yours, 

Apia, Samoa, 
October 5th, 1904. 
A. M. Sutherland, Esq., 
San Francisco, U.S.A. 

Dbar Sir : 

The kind invitation extended to me by the members of the "Stevenson 
Fellowship" through your welcome letter of the 17th August, 1904, has been 
received by me with great delight. I thank you and the Committee from the 
bottom of my heart for remembering me, and for including my name in the long 
list of friends whom Tusitala has left behind to mourn his irreparable loss. I 



would have very much likod to be present and meet you all on this fitting occa- 
sion, but the fact is, my health and old age will not permit me to cross the vast 
waters over to America. So I send you many greetings wishing the "Stevenson 
Fellowship" every success on the 13th November next. And whilst you are 
celebrating this memorable day in America, we shall even celebrate it in Samoa 
It is true that I, like yourselves, revere the memory of Tusitala. Though the 
strong hand of Death has removed him from our midst, yet the remembrance of 
his many humane acts, let alone his literary career, will never be forgotten. 
That household name, Tusitala, is as euphonious to our Samoan ears as much 
as the name Stevenson is pleasing to all other European friends and admirers. 
Tusitala was born a hero, and he died a hero among men. He was a man of 
his word, but a man of deeds not words. When first I saw Tusitala he ad- 
dressed me and said : "Samoa is a beautiful country. I like its people and 
clime, and shall wrFte in my books accordingly. The Samoan Chiefs may be 
compared to our Scotch Chiefs at home in regard to their clans." "Then stay 
here with me." I said, "and make Samoa your home altogether." "That I will 
and even if the Lord calls me," was the reply. Tusitala — story-writer — spoke 
the truth, for even now he is still with me in Samoa. Truth is great and must 
endure. Tusitala's religion and motto was : "Do ye to others as ye would have 
them do unto you." Hence this noble, illustrious man has won my love and 
admiration, as well as the esteem and respect of all who knew him. My God 
is the same God who called away Tusitala, and when it has pleased Him for 
my appointed time to come, then I will gladly join T. in that eternal home 
where we meet to part no more. 

With perfect assurance of my best wishes for your progress and prosperity, 
— I remain, dear sir, cordially yours, 

M. I. 

High Chief of Samoa. 


April 24, 1921 
Dear Madam : 

Thank you very much for the letter which came some four months ago. I 
read it over, over and over again to memorise every word of the letter, and it 

was a glad toil. I thought of you and Mr I thought of Messrs. 

F. . . . D. . . . and R. . . . and Miss G. . . ., every body to-gether and every 
body separate that gave me untold happiness, and I heard the throbs of my heart. 
I told to my wife who is very glad to hear from me. As you know I got married 
in the year of 1913. And we have five children now. Please don't be scared ! 
Two boys and three daughters. Takako oldest daughter six year, seven months 
old. Takashige, William (boy) four years; Fuziko Elsie two years and nearly 
four months; Chiyeko, Lucie eight months old. And this made me perfect papa, 
which is my joy and my pride ! Beside this I have thirty acres of orange 
orchard (four years old) all is my own, and my wife's now which brought me 
four (boxes-horses) (?) poor fruit year before last, and seventy two boxes better 

fruit last year. I am expecting greater crop this fall. I read Mr. article 

about June drop in California Cultivator, and irrigated my orchards last Decem- 
ber and this year I started to wet from February which no body does this in 
this visinity (orchardists of here keep orchards with weeds and wild oats as 
high as my shoulder all winter and tUey wait irrigation until orchards perfectly 

dry and cracke.) I am taking care our orchards after Mr. idea mostly 

with some of my own, as I feel as it mine but all of them are a collection of 
idea of other people's experiences. 

I have debt of five thousand five hundreds dollars which need not to pay 
interest except one thousand five hundred dollars. This is my joy and my pride 
too, is it not? 

Five children and five thousand five hundreds dollars debt are not big job 
to carry on, ror me, but they make me very busy indeed. For this reason, I do 
not write to my friends, as often as I wish, of course I can, if I do, like this 
one, but It is great strain for me now. 

Therefore please will kindly excuse, I shall not write you again until next 
Christmas probably. 

I*lease romomber me to Mr. and All your family. 

When you will come to Terra Bella to see Mr, . 

When you have spare time, and when you thought of old servant, please 
stop a moment at my humble dwelling place and give me chance to hear your 
voice directly. That will be my honor, that which will encourage me. if It Is 
possible with Mr. F. P. It will be a greater honor for us. Befor I ask you to 
come to see us, we should go to see you first, but just excuse for the reasons as 
above written. 

I shall leave the pen with prare of your sound health, and happiness. God 
be with you. 

From your old servant 


Adelaide, 132, 146 

Adler, 90 

Africa, 391 

Alaska, 5, 317 

Albatross, 129 et seq. 

America: 10, 22, 100; pioneer, prob- 
lems of, 312, 314; insular posses- 
sions of, 316 et seq.; adventures 
of, in Pacific, 317 et seq.; diplo- 
macy of, in China, 326; Japan in, 
342 et seq.; Japanese immigra- 
tion to, 345; attitude of, toward 
Eastern affairs, 371 et seq. 

Ameridians, 6, 23, 25, 119 

Andrews, C. F., cited on self-deter- 
mination, 228 

Andrews, Roy Chapman, quoted, 22 

Anglo-Japanese Alliance, 355, 357, 
359-360, 363, 367, 381 

Antarctic, 10 

Anthropologists, 24 

Antipodes: 9, 26, 76; legislation in, 
285 et seq. 

Apia: 87, 88, 100, 101, 105, 207; 
a party in, 240 et seq. 

Arafua Sea, 139, 157 

Aryans, 20 

"Asahi Shimbun," quoted on Ameri- 
can diplomacy, 326 

Asia: relation of, to human exist- 
ence, 6 et seq.; 14, 18, 22; culture 
of, 23; Britain's rock in, 168-178 

Atlantic, 141 

Atua, 76 

Auckland: 13, 110, 114; market, 
272; Art Gallery, 118 

"Auckland Daily News," 351 

Aurora, Shackleton's ship, 128 

Australasia: political problems af- 
fecting, 281-296; intermarriage 
in, 355 et seq. 

Australasians: games of, 355 et seq. 

Australia: 5, 6, 9, 14, 22, 53; popu- 
lation of, 150, 158; and the labor 
problem, 289 et seq.; and immi- 
gration, 292; and labor legisla- 
tion, 293, 294 ; attitude of, toward 
independence, 353 ; and the Anglo- 
Japanese Alliance, 347-363 

Auatralian Immigration Law, 295 

Auitraloids, 21 

Ava: 93, 94; making of, 69, 70 

Balboa: discovery of the Pacific by, 

3 et seq.; quoted, 3, 10 
Balkans, 391 
Bancroft, quoted, 212 
Banda Sea, 139 
Bagg, Mr., 145 
Ban, 230 
Bass Straits, 131 
Beach-combers, 89 
Belgium, 317 
Best, Mr. Elsdon, 235 
Birds of New Zealand, 124, 125 
Bishop, Mrs. Bernice, 235 
Black-birding, 68 
Bland, J. 0. P., 344 
Bluff, 129 

Boas, Franz, quoted, 24 
Boer War, 354 
Bondy, 132 
Bonin Islands, 357 
Botany Bay, 6, 132 
Boxer Indemnity Fund, 323, 328, 

Boxer Uprising, 308, 365 
Brisbane, 136, 152 
Britain, outpost of, in Asia, 168-178- 

See also England, Great Britain 
British Club, 96 
Brown, Dr. McMillan, 25 
Bryce, Viscount, quoted on Pacific 

Islands group, 387 
Buddha, 8 

"Bulletin," Honolulu, 38 
Bushido, 305, 309 

Calhoun, 326 

California, 40, 103, 104, 343, 345 
Cannibalism, 27, 28, 216 
Canoes, 25 
Canton, 4 
Cape Horn, 5 
Cape Liptrap, 131 
Caroline Islands, 125 
Caucasia, 17, 28 
Celebes Sea, 139 

Chamberlain, Professor Basil Hall, 
quoted on Shintoism, 304, 305 



Chaplin, Charlie, 43 

Chapman, John, 312 

Chatham Islands, 26 

Chidley, 149 

Chicago, 184 

China: Great Wall of, 4; effect of 
famine in, 27, 39, 129; licentious- 
ness in, 176, 177; coolieism in, 
177; waking of, 189; standards 
of, 189, 190; and the Twenty-one 
Demands, 306; American trade 
with, 308; bureaucracy and, 324 
et seq.; development of, 365; con- 
sortium for financing, 364 et seq., 
373; need of constructive work 
in, 377; latest loan to, 377 

China Sea, 139, 141 

Chinese: 30, 132, 133; gambling, 
141; music, 176; superstition of, 

Chosen People, 21 

Christchurch, New Zealand, 109, 

Civil War, 120 

Coan, Dr. Titus Munson, cited, 215, 

Cocoa plantations, 105 

Compasses, 25 

Confucius, 6 

Consortium: Agreement, 370; func- 
tion of the, 381, 382, 383 

Consumption, 120 

Cook, Captain James, 5, 7, 18, 28, 
216, 261 

Coolieism, 177, 212, 343 

Copra, 53, 56, 57 

Coral reefs, 37 

Cradle of Mankind, 21 

Culture, 27 

Customs, 23 

Dante, 89 

Darwin: quoted on South Pacific, 

22, 24, 28 
Davuilevu, 61, 62 
Deakin, Mr, Alfred, 349 
Dengue fever, 110 
Desolation Gully, 112 
Dewey, Professor : cited on Japanese 

birth rate, 343 
Divorce, 254 et seq. 
Draft Act: in relation to the Ma- 

ories, 123 
Drake, Sir Francis, 4, 7, 9 
Dunedin, New Zealand, 109, 112, 

113, 127 
Dutch, 4, 10 

East and West News Bureau : state- 
ment of on alien labor in Japan, 
332, 385 

Easter Islands, 25 

Eastern, the, 132, 133, 136 

Eden, 17, 23 

Elephantiasis, 94, 95 

Ellis, Havelock, quoted, 283 

Emerson, 108 

England, 19, 20, 22, 24. See also 

Great Britain 
English, 19, 20 
English Corporal Correction League, 

Episcopal See of Australia, 138 
Equator: astride the, 128-142 
Europe, 17, 20, 22 
Europeans: 18; effect of famine on, 

27, 52 
"Evening Post," Wellington, New 

Zealand, quoted, 358, 359 
Extinction: danger of, of primitive 

races, 205 et seq. 

Famine: effect of upon civilized na- 
tions, 27 

Fan-tan, 141 

Fiji: 11, 12, 13, 18, 21, 32; relation 
of, to the Pacific, 52 et seq.; 81, 
105, 356 

"Fiji Times," Manager of, quoted, 

Fijians: 14; characteristics of, 19, 
20, 21; study of, 52-78; personal 
appearance of, 59, 60; character- 
istics of, 64 et »0q.; dances of, 67; 
women, 70 et seq.; tastes of, 71 
et seq.; music and dances of, 71, 
72; schools for, 76, 84, 85, 86; 
jail of the, 73; submersion of, 
223 et seq. 

Filipinos: habits and customs of, 
162 et seq. 

Fire-walkers of Mbenga, 13 

Food, 27 

Formosa, 298 

Four-River Group, 372 

France, 100 

Frenchmen, 20 

Fujiyama, 35, 193 

German New Guinea, 156 
German Plantation Company, 89 
Germans: in Samoa, 88, 89, 90 
Germanv, 24, 100, 389, 391 
Golden Gate, 7 
Governor of Samoa, 101 
Great Barrier Island, 13 
Great Barrier Reef, 136, 137 
Great Britain: attitude of, toward 

Pacific possessions, 283 et seq.; 

360, 361 ; attitude of toward her 

colonies, 362 



Great Wall of China, 4 
Gregory, Professor, 384 

Haleakala, 48 

Halemaumau, 51 

Hauraki Gulf, 13 

Hawaii: music of, 8, 9, 16, 17, 23, 
32; aspirations of, 42; birth-rate, 
43; assimilation in, 43; foot-bind- 
ing in, 44; kinship, 44; racial 
evanescence, 44; dances of, 72, 
105; divorce in, 255 et seq.; cen- 
sus of, 261, 317, 356 

Hawaiians : 14, 20, 30 ; racial purity 
percentage of the, 213 et seq. 

"Hawaiki," by Percy Smith, cited, 

Hearn, Lafcadio: cited on fruit of 
intermarriage, 263 

Heasley, Inspector, 97 

Heinle's, 39 

Heliolithic man, 18 

"Hibbert Journal," quoted on Fi- 
jian mind, 232-234 

Hilo, 48 

Hindus, 78 

Himalaya Mountains, 22 

Hong-Kong: 109, 141, 167, 169 et 
seq.; slums of, 171; poverty in, 
172; surgery in, 176; birth-rate 
in, 176; music in, 176 

Honolulu: 7, 9; our frontier in the 
Pacific, 30-51; the spirit, 37 et 
seq., 235. See also Hawaii, 

Huang-Hsu, 365 

Hughes, Premier William Morris: 
attitude of, toward conscription, 
288, 355, 359, 360 

Hukuan Railway, 378 

Imperial Conferences, 347 et seq. 

Imperial Diet, 384 

India, 17, 18, 21, 63, 117 

Indians, 77 

Infanticide, 216 

Inouye, Count: quoted on Japanese 

merchants in Korea, 309 
"Invention of a New Religion," by 

Basil Hall Chamberlain, quoted, 

304, 305 
Ishii-Lansing Agreement, 370, 371 
Izanagi, 21 
Izanami, 21 

Japan: 4, 5, 7, 9; awakening of, 28, 
29, 132, 135, 282; in relation to 
the Pacific problem, 297 et seq.; 
foreign policies of, 299 et seq.; 
race-pride of, 302; government of, 
S03; Democracy in, 305; attitude 

of, toward commercialization, 
306; American trade with, 308; 
in Siberia, 308; Buddhism in, 
324; relations of, 326 et seq.; and 
alien labor, 331; foreign popula- 
tion statistics of, 334; naturaliza- 
tion in, 337 et seq.; science in, 
341 et seq.; in America, 342 et 
seq.; birth-rate, 343; attitude of, 
toward financiering China, 373, 
374; attitude of the Orient to- 
ward, 376; and the Pacific prob- 
lem, 379; and Manchurian rail- 
ways, 380 

"Japan Chronicle," quoted in Brit- 
ish educational work in Hong- 
Kong, 177; quoted on English pol- 
icy, 362 

"Japan: Real and Imaginary," by 
Sydney Greenbie, 297 

Japanese: 21, 25, 30, 31; races, 72, 
94. See also Japan 

Java, 4, 22 

Joan of Arc, 51 

Junnosuke Inouye, 375 

Kaiser, the, 104 

Kamehamea, 36, 50, 215 

Kaneohe, 35, 36, 51 

Kapiolani, 51 

Eatori-maru, 192 

Keats, quoted, 3 

Kellerman, Annette, 148 

Kiao-chau, 368 

Kilauea, 8, 50 

Kinglake, 24 

Kinship of Pacific peoples, 20 et 

Kipling, 116 
Knox, Secretary, 366 
Kobe: business situation in, 335 
Korea: 4, 298; Japan's actions in, 

309; the case of, 317, 324, 391 
Kyoto, 7 

Labor: conditions in New Zealand, 
6; in Fiji, 13 et seq.; legislation 
in New Zealand, 116; indentured, 

Lake Rotorua, 122 

Lali, 71, 73, 78 

Lamont, Mr. Thomas W.: 364; ne- 
gotiations with Japan by, 375; 
mission of, to China, 376, 377; 
statement of, 379, 380 

Language, 22, 23 

Lansing, Mr.: 370; attitude of, to- 
ward loans to China, 372 

Lao-Tsze, 269 

Laupepa, 395 



League of Nations, 358 

Legend: and the Pacific, 24 et seq. 

"Lending Money to China," by Syd- 
ney Greenbie, 371 

Leper Island, Molokai, 8 

Levuka, 75, 85 

Lindsay, Vachell, 312 

Little Barrier Island, 13 

Logan, Colonel Robert: 101, 104; 
letter of, 395 

Londbn, Charmian, 38 

London, Jack, 10 

Longford, Professor, "The Story of 
Korea," quoted, 309 

Los Angeles, 30 

Lost Tribes of Israel, 23 

Lurline, 7, 9 

Luzon, 158 

Mackaye, Arthur, 36 et teq. 

Magellan, 4, 9, 18 

Magneta Island, 137 

"Main Street," 313 

Malays, 308 

Manchuria, 344, 373 

Mangoes, 105 

Manila: 32, 141, 158 et sen.; de- 
scription of, 163 et seq.; 271 

Manoa Valley, 33, 34, 37 

Manono, 87 

Maories: 20, 23, 26; dances of the, 
72, 110, 118 et seq.; vital statis- 
tics of, 123; racial discrimination 
against, 250 

Maoriland, 17 

Marital contracts, 240-253 

Markets, 265-278 

Marquesas, 5, 26, 52 

Marshall Islands, 319, 357 

Martin, Alonso, 4 

Mason, Mr. Gregory, 368 

Mataafa, 396; letter, 395, 396 

Mbenga: mystic fire-walkers of, 13 

McDuffie, Mr., 217, 218 

Melanesia, 18, 19, 23, 26, 27 

Melanesian-Fijians, 20, 21 

Melba, Madame, 145 

Melbourne, 129, 143, 144, 349 

Melville, 10, 24 

Message, Mr., quoted, 61 

Micronesia, 23, 26, 27 

Migrations, 20 

"Millard's Review," 368 

Mindanao, 140, 158 

Mindoro, 158 

Missionaries: 19; Fijian, 65 et seq.; 
68, 69, 73, 121, 231, 236 

Moa, 28 

Moji, 191 

Moiokai, the leper island, 8 

Molucca Sea, 139 

Mongolia, 373 

Monroe Doctrine, 316 

Monroe Doctrine of Asia, 297 et 

seq., 320 
Monterey, 103 

Montessori Method: in Fiji, 67 
Mormon missionaries, 23 
"Morning Herald," Sydney, quoted 

on America's War policy, 350, 351 
Morocco, 390 
Mt. Eden, 110 
Mount Vaea, 103 
Mna Peak, 87 
Mulinuu, 91 
Mummy- apples, 20, 59 

Nagasaki, 376 

Napier, New Zealand, 276 

Napoleon: 20; in relation to Fijian 
legend, 21 

Negros, 158 

New South Wales, 146 

New York, 111, 113, 184, 270, 364 

"New York Times," on Japanese, 

New Zealand: labor conditions in, 
6, 13, 14, 17, 20, 23, 26, 72, 84, 
105; study of, 108-127; home life 
in. 111; the bush of, 111; farm- 
ers, 112 et seq.; newspapers, 113; 
population, 113; characteristics, 
114, 115; girls, 115; progressive- 
ness, 116; development, 117 et 
seq.; Parliament, in relation to 
the Draft Act, 123, 133, 145; and 
the class system, 286 et seq.; 
policy toward England, 353 

Niagara, the, 9, 10, 11, 16, 53, 62, 
79, 86, 111 

Nichi Nichi Shummun, 309, note 

Nicholas of Russia, 361 

Night-blooming cereus, 33 

Niuafoou, 12, 13 

North Island, 112 

Oahu: 40; College, 63 
O'Brien, Frederick, 10, 24 
One hundred and eightieth merid- 
ian, 11, 13, 195 
Open Door, 367, 369, 371 
Origins of races, 22 
'•Osaka Asahi," 360 
"Outlines of History," Wells, 29 

Pacific: discovery of, 3 et seq.; sig- 
nificance of, 7; eflFect of the mid-, 
on time, 11; kinship of Pacific 
peoples, 20 et seq.; Darwin quoted 
on South, 22; origin of, cultures, 



23; Griffith Taylor quoted on 
size of, 24; counter-invasion of, 
28 et seq.; our frontier in the, 
30 et seq.; relation of Fiji to the, 
62; outposts of the white man in 
the far, 143 et s^eq.; our peg in 
the far, 158-167; ideals that dwell 
around the, 199-201; Hindu prob- 
lems and the, 225; political prob- 
lems of the, 281 et seq.; adven- 
tures of America in the, 317 et 
seq.; causes of confusion obtain- 
ing in the, 386, 387 

Pago Pago, 10, 82, 317 

Paleolithic life, 16 

Pali, the, 35, 37, 50 

Panama Canal, 315 

Panama-Pacific Exposition, 79 

Pan ay, 158 

Pan-Pacific Union, 236 

Papuans, 53 

Pasig River, 161 

"Paul and Virginia," 137 

Pavlova, 46 

Peace Conference, 357, 358, 371 

Peace Treaty, 358 

Persia, 390 

Pescadores, 357 

Pharaohs, 25 

Philippines: 6, 32, 140, 317; prob- 
lem of the, 318 et seq.; and inde- 
pendence, 328 

Pilgrims, 17 

Pleistonic period, 20 

Polvandry, 220 

Polynesia: 17, 18, 23, 27; present 
status of, 29 

Polynesians: 19; origin of the, 20, 
23, 24, 25, 28, 52; dances of the, 
72, 88, 206; character of the an- 
cient, 215; and the problem of in- 
termarriage, 237 et seq. 

Population: limitation of, 27, 28; 
decline of, 30 et seq. 

Port Chalmers, 129 

Port Williamson, 132 

Portuguese, 4, 30 

Poverty Bay, 28 

Prisoners: Fiji, 73, 74 

Promotion Committee: of Honolulu, 
34; "Primer" of the, 41 

Queensland, 138, 146 

Race-blending, 2S et seq. 

Rangatora, 120, 121 

Rarotanga, 93 

Ratu Joni, 230 

Reading, Lord: on loans, 372 

Reinsch, Dr. Paul S., 326, 327 

Rewa River, Fiji, 18, 19, 60, 62, 67 

Rickshaws, 171, 178 

Rockefeller Foundation, 173, 174, 

Rolland, 108 

Roosevelt, Colonel, and Korea, 318 
Root-Takahira Agreement, quoted, 

369, 370 
Rua, Maori priest, 127 
Russia, 308, 391 

Russo-Japanese War, 317, 348, 365 
Ryecroft, Reverend Mr., 65 et seq.y 


Salvation Army, 44, 45, 179 

Samoa: 10, 11, 13, 19; cosmogony, 
21, 23, 26, 52, 84, 238, 317, 356 

Samoans: 14; dances of the, 72; 
study of the, 79 et seq.; songs of 
the, 80; dances of the, 83; hospi- 
tality of the, 93 et seq., 208 

Samurai, 305 

San Francisco, 7, 10, 184 

Santa Anna Valley, 137 

Savii, 26, 87 

Scientific, 236 

Scientists, 231 

Seattle, 193 

Sedan chairs, 171 

Shackleton, Sir E., 128 

Shanghai: China's European capi- 
tal, 179-191; description of, 192 
et seq.; slums of, 185; the Chi- 
nese city, 185 et seq.; market, 274 

Shantung: 297; rape of, 324 

Shaw, 108 

Shibusawa, 375 

Shimonoseki. 376 

Shintoism: 299; defined, 304, 305 

Shurman, Dr. Jacob Gould, 327 

Siberia, 344 

Siberian Railway, 361 

Sikhs, 231 

Sino-Japanese Military Agreement, 

Sino-Japanese War, 365 

Slums; tropical, 165; Hong-Kong, 

Smith, Percy, cited, 26 

Smvthe, Miss: 179; work of, 180- 

Solomon Islands, 65 

"Son of the Middle Border," 313 

South Manchurian Railway, 375, 

South Pole, 128 

South Seas: 5 et seq., 10, 12 et seq.y 
14, 30 et seq.; style, 32, 57, 74, 
80, 82 

Spanish, 10 



Sponges, 37 

St. Helena, 20 

Stevenson, R. L.: 10, 88, 100; pil- 
grimage to tomb of, 100-105; 
home of, 103, 387, 395 

Stevenson Fellowship, 395 

Stewart, Mr. W. Downie: quoted on 
status of New Zealand, 359 

Stone Age, 89 

Street, Julian, 375 

Sulu Sea, 139 

Sulus, 65 

Sun Yat-sen, Dr., 325; quoted, 326 

Superstition, 25 

Suva, Fiji, 11, 13, 20, 55, 56, 57, 
58, 61, 73, 75, 76, 84, 105 

Sydney, 9, 12, 132, 139, 146 et seq. 

Tagalog, 165 

Tagore: 116; experiences of in 
Japan, 311 

Ta"hiti, 17, 26, 28, 52 

Talume, 12 

Tamasese, 395 

Tamba Maru, 179 

Tasman, 9, 10 

Tasman Sea, 128 

Tasmania, 132 

Tattooings of Time, 17 

Taylor, Griffith: quoted on size of 
Pacific, 24 

Te Noroto, 124 

Terauchi, Count, 368 

Thomson, Basil, cited, 13 

Thursday Island, 155 

"Times," China: quoted on foreign 
control of industries, 378 

Thoreau, 95 

Tokyo, 349 

Tolstoy, 269 

Tongans, 19, 77 

Torres Straits, 139 

Townsville, 137 

Traders: in the Far East, 55, 89, 
236, 306 

Tradition, 22 

Tulane, 13 

Turks, 20 

Tusitala, the tale teller (Steven- 
son), 103, 395 

Typee, 5 
Typhoons, 141 

Uchida, Viscount: quoted on Con- 
sortium, 379, 384 
Union Steamship Company, 129 
Upolu, 87 

Vailima, Stevenson's home, 88, 100, 

101, 103 
Vancouver, George, 5, 7, 18 
Venice of the Pacific, 25 
Vice: among the primitive races, 

Victoria, 146 
Vikings, 25 
Virginia, 151 
Vladivostok, 308 

Waikato, 124 

Waikiki, 39 

Waitemata Harbor, 13 

Ward, Sir Joseph, 349, 351 

Waterhouse, Mr., 69 

Waterspouts, 140 

Webb, Mr., 245 

Wellington: 97, 109, 113; Museum, 

Wellington, Duke of: cited on Brit- 
ain's colonies, 283 

Wells, H. G., 29 

''When the Sleeper Wakes," Wells, 

White Australia policy, 291, 292, 
294, 348, 350 

Whitney, Judge William L., 256- 

Wilson Administration, 318 

Wilson, President, 382, 383 

Wimmerd, 131 

World War, 234, 350 

"World's Work." 371 

Wright, Mr., of the "Bulletin," 38 
et seq. 

Wurm ice age, 26 

Yamada Ise, 192 
Yokohama, 192 
Y. M. C. A., 38 

Zamboanga, 140, 158 


Greenbie, Sydney 

22 The Pacific triangle